Forgotten Heroes
by juliasejanus
Summary: Just a teenager. Not a spy, not a hero. Alex has started again in California. Now to change and be more than a failed MI6 experiment
1. Chapter 1

Alex looked darkly at Sabina, knowing he had drawn a very short straw. Of all the weekends for Dean Cox to stand his girlfriend up, for her 'leaving school forever' party. An event Sabina was not going to miss and that meant the agoraphobic adopted brother got dragged along as her plus one. He was not friends with any Sabina's long standing group of pals. He had only briefly attended High School and had for the past two years been homeschooled after a rather embarrassing breakdown and brief stint in a psychiatric ward. He was viewed by all with a strange mix of sympathy, pity, horror and worst of all hero worship. There had been a couple of attempts at cruel bullying of Alex the nutcase, but Sabina had cut those fools out of her life with immediate effect. As Ms. Popular, the dark haired tall beauty had effectively made those ex-friends social pariahs and also made all others leave her darling younger brother alone as he was off limits.

That school, Sabina's alma mater, was tainted by one awful event when a loner in Senior year had decided to become a mass murderer. Both he and Sabina bore scars from that day. So did her best friend Holly, his number one fan and founding member of the Alex Pleasure fan club. That day Alex's favourite teacher had died. Two years later, drawn into those memories he was teetering on the edges of panic. Better not to dwell on it, just think of coke, pizza and then the inevitable karaoke, Sab's favourite method of torture. Difficult during a meal when most of the invitees also had nightmares about that day. He had been placed in four junior year classes with Sabina. His algebra, german, french and spanish all now finished.

His driving licence stated he was Alexander J.R. Pleasure. He was officially the son of Liz and Edward and had been for just over a year. A different name for a completely different boy, silent and introverted rather than smart mouthed and outgoing. His hair long and unkempt, wearing baggy generic clothes, a style his mother hated. Liz frequently suggested shopping and a makeover, but that was not happening.

So, he was still months of work away from his own graduation for one, stuck as a plus one for a girl who was going to be life and soul of this party and he was damn sure it was all a thinly veiled plot just to get him out of the house. Pizza, Karaoke and nothing illegal happening whatsoever, no with Sabina, who was teetotal, virginal and unfailing polite. Two years ago, he would have taken on drug dealers, assassins and every megalomaniac going. Now he just wanted to stay in his room.

Life was meant to be sticking to goals, only Alex's ideas on goals were totally different to his therapist's and his parents. The quiet life, that was what he had settled on. His room, no tv, schoolwork and taking up a new hobby. He had chosen guitar lessons as part of his therapy. Classical guitar lessons twice a week and music camp in the summer. Camp for him as the Pleasure's minus their son went back to England to visit friends and relatives. In the vacuum left by ditching all other activities, he loved music and had taught himself folk, blues and was exploring rock music at the moment. He had saved up his allowance and had bought a decent electric guitar and amp at a yard sale last January as his birthday present to himself. He also grown to love Liz's quirky music collection of Barclay James Harvest, Kate Bush, Annie Lennox, Queen, early Rod Stewart, Gerry Rafferty, Cat Stevens, Elkie Brooks as well as Edward's few punk and early goth albums. He listened to these vinyl gems when he could not sleep. Helped by headphones, meaning no one was the wiser of his nocturnal activities.

Sabina disturbed him and had made him change into the outfit she picked, brush his hair and put his shoulder length thick blond mane into a bad 'Beckham' style ponytail and was then deemed fit to go out. He caught a glimpse of the reflection of a thin and tall young man dressed in black converse, black skinny jeans and a white shirt. Items bought by Sabina for his seventeenth birthday and never worn. He looked lovely according to Liz. All Edward said was be home by midnight. Alex shuddered when he thought of the spell of normality breaking, and the curse of an interesting life reemerging. He was not going to panic, no vomiting, no hysterics, no uncontrollable weeping. Been there, done that.

"Want to share a pizza, Alex?" Sabina suggested seeing that her charge was looking a bit green.

"I was thinking of just a starter… and maybe a side salad. We had pasta for lunch. I'd settle for a share though if you want your fav." Ms. size four jeans loved meat supreme with extra cheese. Alex had stopped any thoughts of favourite foods in 2002, when each choice made him think of Ian or Jack and the pile of lies that constituted his childhood. If anyone asked he liked plain hamburgers, vanilla ice cream and club soda. Neutral foods for his neutral life.

"Sure thing, we can have any leftovers for breakfast."

Alex was nursing his water. He had eaten his ice cubes. The place was far enough away from tourist haunts not to be crowded. The bar decorated in over the top Tokyo style, right down to the karaoke rig. He was not part of the conversation, sandwiched between his two guardian angels, Sabina and Holly. Bland music in the background, he fancied something with a bit of an edge. With the whisper of "Going for a slash", he escaped.

…

Sabina had finished her sprite and Alex had not returned from his sojourn to the men's room. She then noted someone was actually singing a decent song. She loved Little Bird by Annie Lennox. Then she noted it was Alex. Out came her iPhone. She was going to video this for her mater and pater as they would not believe this without evidence. Alex was rocking it, who knew he could sing and with that range. For a boy who had barely left the house for twenty months this was amazing.

Alex read the email from Paul and laughed. For two years the former spy had lived like a hermit in the suburbs of San Francisco. One trip out and Sabina had posted his full on diva impression on youtube. Two days and he was going back to music camp to hang out with Cassian. It was a million miles from all Ian had wanted from him, but he had poured his heart and soul into his guitar, now for the next step, composition.

There was a knock at his bedroom door. "Its open"

"Sorry to disturb you Alex, but Grayson is here… Holly's brother. He wants to talk about about his band."

Alex had said hello to Gray twice in the years ago Sabina and Holly had been inseparable. The boy with long dark hair was a bass player in a local band.

"Hi, Gray. What's up?"

"Hey, AJ. Its just a heads up. My band, well my guitarist is making waves. I heard from Holly that you are a serious musician and well, will you audition if I need a new line up? Hill wants to do things more pop and well, that ain't me. I'll leave you a CD of my songs. I think I'm on the right track, serious songs, big issues not singing about loosing my girl but I'm there if you have some bright ideas. I'll see you in August when you get back from Arizona."

The white CD cover was emblazoned with red pen, The Forgotten Heroes. That sounded like an excellent name for a rock band with attitude.


	2. Chapter 2

Edward was reviewing Alex's study schedule. "All on course for graduation in February. What then, music degree?"

"Looked into composition at Brunel or Physics and music at the Royal College of Music. On line for grade point average to match Sabina's and she got into Oxford with a scholarship. Paul's musing over a place at Brunel studying computer engineering. Cass is also considering the Royal College of Music. Come to think on it, I think both Jamie and Hugo have applied for the LSE. You don't think its a conspiracy for all the Point Blanc Misfits to end up in London. Jesus, I'll end up doing something really stupid if we end up hot housing together. Thank Christ I've not sent off application letters yet. Need to rethink this."

"Alex, you're reading too much into this. You said Paul and Cassian are your best mates, You're off hiking with Paul next week. Talk it over with him before you ditch going back to London." Edward looked at his son, trying to read his mood. It had been a lesson in walking on glass getting this fragile teenager over his PTSD and his barricade of control issues. "What's the real issue here? Is it Paul? What I'm I too dad to get?"

Alex laughed at that. "Would you be upset if I was keen on Paul?"

"If this is you coming out and being comfortable as Alex, both Lix and I are completely happy for you. He just better treat you good; because I am nasty dad considering the baptism of fire I've had with the no hopers Sabina's brought home over the years. God, Brian was the worst. Dean's not much better. Shame Cassian is friend not a love interest." Edward really liked Cassian James and his mother. Paul struck the journalist as a young man who was a bit of a player, with his mask in place to only project what people wanted to see. Edward had a bad feeling that Alex was only seeing the ideal, not the real Paul.

"Cass, well Cass is OK with casual, but not commitment; though he thinks Sabina's really fine. Too good for him. I want whoever is in my life there for me and me alone. You and Liz are a little bit of monogamy perfection. Man, that woman, Ed. You lucked out big time. Worship her, spoil her and treat her like the goddess she is. How can any woman compare when Mummy is Queen of the MILFs." Alex smiled, "Oedipal complex is another thing to add to my complex of mental health issues. Sabina in five years, no two max, will have every male in England panting in complete unrequited love and chomping at the bit to do her bidding. You are going to loose this battle, Edward as little Miss Perfect will probably date an absolute looser just like you."

"No, Sabina needs to get selfish. She deserves the best. Back me up on this with your karate black belt and ninja skills. All no hopers need scaring off. Hell Liz deserves more than this. My stupid choices meant we're living in exile. Crazy Damian Cray and his crazier fans were making our lives miserable." Edward missed London, curries, decent beer and his old job at the Guardian. "I can sleep at night because Liz loves it here. She's come into her own as a costume designer. Three film productions this year, I give it another two and she'll have her first Oscar nomination."

"Kept man in two years, lucky you." Alex knew two big bucks producers were after Liz for their new projects. All helped that Liz and Leonora James were firm friends. "Need another award winning book, man. Go teen agent expose, fuck MI6. fuck the OSA. You are an American citizen now. Freedom of speech is enshrined in the constitution. Go Operation shaft Alan Blunt! That man needs shafting."

Edward was sitting on a finished manuscript. "First you need to be happy, settled and beyond their reach. I do not trust Ms. Jones at all. We only got your adoption passed because of the incident as school. Shit Alex, you saved a lot of kids that day, not just Sabina and Holly. It was your breakdown going back to school that played into our hands, so we got your full guardianship, cut that bitch Tulip, out of the loop when you came under the scrutiny of California Family Courts. You need to be free of their abuse before I print a single word. You are a remarkable asset and they broke you. Never forget what they did to you, an innocent child. I can't forgive them."

….

The fourth night of camping in the wilderness in Yosemite, Paul hated bugs, dirt and MRE's and could not wait his return to civilisation. He wondered on Alex, who had practically run up the ascent to the North Dome. His seventeen year old friend loved being pushed hard in the heat and dust, dirty and sweaty, thirsty and hungry. He talked of endurance trails with full backs, timed with the added incentive of booby taps and hazing in the Brecon Beacons with the SAS. Tomorrow they were headed back down into the valley from Cloud's Rest. Hotel, shower, spa and five star catering at the Tenaya Lodge were awaiting them. His feet were sore and he had heat rash and had seen far too much wildlife for a native New Yorker. Now, the ultimate hiking companion was laid beside him snoring softly, as exhausted as he was but Paul Roscoe could not sleep. His hand was slowly stroking his hard on. He was miserable, tired and horny. Tomorrow he would forget this and be back being a normal guy, not turned on by his best friend.

…..

Alex laughed at the mix up. The cottage booked did not have two bedrooms, just one. Paul was verging on the edge of rage when his British friend stated "Chill, baby. Its got a sofa bed. Only one bathroom, but we just shared a micro tent for the past five days and we've both been crapping like bears in the woods. So, deep breath, calm thoughts and exhale." With that Alex winked at the concierge who had shown them to the suite and handed over a very crumpled twenty dollar bill.

"Come on, you get first dibs on the shower, Mr. 'In three years I'll be the majority shareholder of Roscoe Hotels and Resorts'. Trust me they know you are a billionaire. Burger or steak for dinner… or both?" Paul stood up very straight and glared at Alex. "OK, OK, I get it. Both and try to order wine and beer for you on Room Service and then flash my super fake ID." Alex had a very dodgy driver's licence in the name of Alessandro Cortez, which would only work if they believed he'd recently dyed his hair blond.

The waiter looked at the photo ID then at the very un-hispanic guest and muttered in mexican "Stupid asshole college kids trying to get me fired."

Alex smiled and answered in perfect Cuban Spanish "My mother was Cuban…. sperm donor father was Russian. I was trying to look more ethnic and dyed my hair dark brown when I was in High School. I know I look like I grew on on the Volga, spitting image of my long dead father."

The guy looked again at the supposed twenty-two year old from Pasadena. "Yo, brother, you do look 100% WASP."

"Only met my dad once and once was enough. Is it OK for Paul to sign for room service with the alcohol or do I need to pay for that separately?"

"No, just make sure he drinks the coke and you drink the wine."

Alex smiled and put his hand over his heart "Scout's honour."

….

Paul was already tucking into his dinner when Alex handed him his illicit glass of Merlot. The New Yorker then raised his glass to salute his friend's spy skills. "You lie so fucking easily."

Alex shrugged and sat down. "For a week or so, Alexei Sarov was my dad and well… Helena Beckett could have been Cuban for all I know. As an orphan I spent my entire childhood wishing every passing stranger to be some sort of variation of parents to take me away and for me to to a proper boy. Not the afterthought and burden I was to Ian. Now my toast, to our shitty childhoods. May we both excel and rise to great heights of fame and fortune to spit in the faces of our abusers and enemies."

The zombie movie fest on TV was on mute as both teenagers chilled. Alex was relaxed, full of good food and leaning against the firm, fit and tall Paul Roscoe. He shifted slightly to feel his friend's erection. "I guess you're happy to see me. Want help with that not small problem?"

"You are jailbait, Alex." Paul had only just turned eighteen, the hiking trip was his birthday present to himself.

"Twenty-two… got served alcohol and everything. Consider this an additional birthday present. I'm broadening your horizons. Its OK to like guys as well as girls. I'll suck you off and you can tell me straight to my face that you were not wanking off the other night fantasising about me doing just this." Alex knelt on the floor and Paul did not stop him as he pulled down his friend's track pants.

"Baby, baby , baby.. what a beauty! Not that I've seen many erect guys but you are well endowed. No wonder you have girls lining up and it ain't for your trust fund." Alex took a gulp of coke and tried to remember all the pointers about deep throating he had heard. The first box on his action plan was going to be crossed off. By tomorrow he was going to no longer be a virgin and hopefully Paul would want this to be more than a one time thing. He had been a true boy scout and had come prepared. Wearing those tight shorts hiking had paid off just the way Sabina said it would.

…..

Alex read the text. "Can we get back to Serramont by three?"

Paul blinked awake. "Its 9 now, can be back for noonish if we leave now. What's the rush?"

"Gray's in full panic mode. He's finally got a tour lined up and his shithead guitarist has bailed and it looks like the lead singer is out as well. Can you sing?"

"No. I know you can. So, you are going all rock star on me?"

"Its an open audition and I've not been near my guitar in eight days since camp. Wait, a minute." Alex called Cassian. "Stop swearing at me for waking you up. Can you get to Gray's place for three. Auditions are on. Tour is starting in two and a half weeks including Austin in October. Supporting the Old Town Rebels. I know, it might only be temporary, but its a jump start to the big time. See you there. Sorry, Paul but you can be our agent/manager if you want. Holly already runs the band fanclub."

"Oh, the girl that thinks she can be the next Mrs. Pleasure, only you like cock not vaginas."

"Well, your cock, lover boy. Now I have the hard task of actually getting up. Home for one, an hours practice and then blow all opposition out of the water."


	3. Chapter 3

Alex was puking into a plastic bag, his normal routine before a concert. Only this was the Prom he should have been attending as a Senior, only he had bailed school two and a half years ago. He had gained his High School Equivalency in February and was now a full time rock musician. Only the band was now more alternative than rock. Gone was his long blond hair, now cropped into a stylish bed head. His wardrobe styled perfectly by his mom and Cassian. Gray had been restyled as well from shambling hippy to neo-radical. They were a San Mateo High success story, well two graduates, one drop out and the lunatic keyboard guy who had escaped from Bel Air and was now part time son with the Pleasures. Most of the time the band were on the road, they stayed in either crummy motels or like a pack of dogs in the drummer's van. Making the two groups fast friends and practically brothers. Ike the drummer was a guy of few words and was Gray's best friend and chief accomplice. He was almost empathic regarding their song composition demands on the percussion, rhythm and with the most basic and unhelpful of pointers came up trumps every time. Their first concert with the revised line up had been 70% covers and two songs written by the band founder and three written by the new band line up, even if Ike's contribution had been that's great, a shrug or that sucks. Their present set was two covers and an additional eight songs written on the road.

Paul had returned for this event, after seeing four of their shows over the past ten months, and was sat at the mixing desk and had been a part time sound engineer, visuals guy and roady. His summer before college would be spent with Alex or the band.

Cassian, ever the dandy, was standing pensive and judgemental over his wardrobe choices tonight. Alex then threw a t-shirt at him. "Sorry, dress down Friday. San Mateo High Remembrance, four guys not in the hall tonight were victims of the ultimate Asshole Steven Matthews."

Alex stood by his mike, his guitar's low level hum telling him it was live and ready. Tonight he was leading the audience interaction, a job normally left to Gray. The spotlight hit him and he strummed a chord. "Hi and Congratulation to this years Graduates of San Mateo High. Tonight we honour not just you but our fallen comrades, never to be forgotten. Lalique Montez was one scary cheerleader, who probably would have made a great marine; Dominic Leonard all round jock and future college and professional basketball star, Kristie McKenzie the gossip hub of the high school and all around queen bitch of the universe and and Mr. Valdez, call me Nate, was the best teacher I ever had. What a loss to San Mateo he was. He dismissed the shit reports about me from London and let me start anew here. I guess he might have been proud of me. For everyone's information, I have graduated with my high school equivalency, so not the complete loser I was predicted to be three years ago. Hope you guys enjoy our set." With that there was three beats from the drummer and Alex let rip with his opening rift.

Bleary eyed Alex crawled down to breakfast and grunted at Edward. Before raiding the cupboards and fridge for cereal and milk.

"Morning Alex, You have gained a magnificent review from the Hi correspondent. She faxed through her copy." The journalist then read out loud " _Forgotten Heroes started with a very personal intro and then showcased a new set of songs influenced by the day everything changed. Horror, hurt, regret and loneliness have shaped their lives from that point. Let us all remember the forgotten hero of that day, as his subsequent breakdown which had the unfortunate affect of making everyone step back; resulting in isolating AJ from his peers, as he chose to hide himself behind agoraphobia and we all let him. He has emerged from his cocoon of healing as a strong, insightful and judgemental adult. The band write as one unit and their songs reflect on our very flawed society and the microcosm of those present as conflicting attitudes present in every school, not just San Mateo High. A refreshing change from the other teenage pop and rock offerings obsessing about sex, materialism and bravado._ "

Alex pondered those words. "That's so fucking typical. They all think I went nuts because of that incident, when I'd already lived through so much worse. I was broken when I entered that school and I think only Sabina and Mr. Valdez got that. I made it back to a be a good student with you, Liz and Sabina helping me. Then Cass insisting I go to music camp got me over my unhealthy clinginess to my room. I love performing, even with the fact stepping out on a stage is the hardest thing to do in the world." The band's future was being mapped out by the real power driving the band's frenetic output. Gray was as ambitious as Cassian. Only the beloved child of an LA media mogul, meant their band were on the radar of Leonora's vast contacts. Only wayward son was stubborn in his wish to make it by his own graces. In two weeks and they were booked to play at the eighteenth birthday party of one of Cassian's former friends from his days as a minor drug dealer and all round party animal; behaviour that got him a personal invitation to Hell from Miss Stellenbosch. That party would open doors across southern California.

"Bets are on you get signed before the year is out. Your decision to support three tours back to back has paid off. You guys have been noticed, even NME wrote a short piece saying you were much better than the Dynamic Sorcerers at Austin last year."

"Sabina got us booked for a gig in Oxford in the October. Lets see if we can get on the European Festival circuit as well. Thats a hop skip and a jump to getting signed by a decent indy label; not one of the bastard conglomerates that will want to tone the politic down and pop everything up. I want credibility not to be a cash cow for some guys in suits." Alex was on board for sticking to Gray's ideals for the band. "Oh I have a present for you and Liz, didn't have time to give it to you guys yesterday. Our first recording. CD of four songs recorded and mixed by Cassian. Five hundred numbered copies, and we sold two hundred and fourteen last night. See yours is all signed as well. Proceeds going to the school memorial fund. You have lucky number 13. Sabina got number six. I have number three as the third member of the group. You never know it might be a collector's item one day. Our website had preorders for over a hundred as well. Artwork by Holly, its brilliant isn't. Its from the photo printed in the Examiner of the bloodstain on the floor… my blood. That girl has a very strange obsession with me."

"You were shot in the kidney, arm and chest, yet still managed to beat the gunman into unconsciousness with two strikes. He had been pointing the gun at her head at the time. You saved her life."

Alex grumbled the truth of the matter, "Sabina was sat right next to Holly." Both girls already had minor wounds from the initial spray of bullets from the semi automatic assault rifle. Alex had been stood just behind Nate, who had been the first victim in the room; dead before he hit the floor. Alex struck by the through and throughs. Seven dead in the hall. No closure, answers or sense of justice as the perpetrator had killed himself after being transferred from county jail to the state supermax. "Writing songs has helped me try and understand my emotional baggage and empathise that we all carry around that shit. I've written a couple about the Cray business, not ones I'll share with the guys; not yet at least. I'll play them to you when Cass goes home tomorrow. Not even played these ones to Paul, as it doesn't seem right discussing the assassin who professed loved me with your current beau."

"That Russian was a very complicated and conflicted man, one you briefly reconnected to his humanity. I would rather think it was lust and or obsession not love on his part. Please tell me you have not called the offering Stockholm Syndrome." Edward had often wondered on Alex's continued ambivalence to the Russian killer.

"The other song is… its more about my own sexual awakening. At fourteen I did think Yassen was smoking hot, I thought that the first time a saw him. I had a hard on when he killed that guy in Cornwall. Lust and hate… a perfect recipe for the complete denial I was in for the next two and a bit years. Then Cassian kissed me at camp and well, its OK to like guys. Just not psychopaths or serial killers." Alex had owned up to being mostly gay after his make-out session with his friend. His outing shared with his fellow survivors of Point Blanc Academy, only later with his family. He was attracted to girls, yes; but the thrill, aggression and hardness of the same sex coupling was more right to this ex-spy, who had rejected High School or any form of conforming to societies expectations. He had been changed by the horrors he had experienced, and he could not date or form relationships, however casual with people with no concept of the surviving. Sabina had seen Yassen in all his glory and had fought Cray. A young girl shaped into a hard and unrelenting pursuer of truth and justice.

One aspect of the school incident was that he could relate to Gray and Holly, whose family dynamic had been warped by their own horror story. The bass guitarist had witnessed the bloodbath in the hall and seen his baby sister hysterical and bloody afterward. Ike, well the drummer was the product of the fostering system and had washed through several foster families rated average, indifferent to awful, which had tempered his inner cynic and hardened his outlook not to include any rose tinted hues.

Alex had been so lucky as Liz, Edward and Sabina had been there to let him be silent, hide and to heal at his own pace. Trusting this strange mature teenager to make his own decisions after eighteen months of abuse. All helped by open discussions that if he could reason out his objections or rationalise his chosen course of action, he had been allowed to move forward at his own pace and toward his own goals, with only minor adjustments for parental concerns or to keep his shrink happy. They had in fact been much more challenged by Sabina's forthright independence and strident attitude that nothing was holding her back, especially overprotective parents. Her main reason for applying for Oxford, London and York. Not Berkley, USC, UCLA or any ivy league colleges. Her only compromise had been to take her mother's maiden name, so Sabina Rothbury was attending uni. Liz had always worked under her own name. During her planning for freedom Sabina had bribed Alex to give her SAS standard self defence lessons. Liz's suggestions were almost as useful. Keep to brightly lit and well populated areas, to always carry a heavy handbag and use it like a bolas and that perfume, deodorant or hairspray directed into an attacker's face are as effective as pepper spray and also common items one would normally carry.

The true weirdness was Alex had no problems with his new surname as Liz and Ed officially only had a daughter. Rider was assigned to his additional middle name. Helped by Edward's book on Cray which mentions Sabina's tennis mad friend from Chelsea. The adoption, through the California Family Courts, made the illusion of him being a new and post-emigrating addition to the family; therefore American. No one looking through the few records available to the public could connect Alex to the business with Air Force One.

His hunger sated he stood in the hall with a decision to make. Either exercise like he normally would with an hour of katas or on the treadmill in the basement or go back upstairs to Paul, still asleep but with the promise of waking him up for sex. Alex smiled and bounded up stairs three steps at a time.


	4. Chapter 4

Being in Oxford was great, as the four band members, all under 21, were taking full advantage of being over the legal age for drinking be spending their free time in pubs and clubs. The house Sabina shared with four girls was now holding an all night party. In the tiny yard, music blaring, the sibling's escaped for a catch up. "Your concert was amazing." Sabina gushed. "I can tell which are your songs, my beautiful bitter and twisted baby bro." She handed Alex a cigarette and asked the million dollar question. "You did not invite Tom Harris?"

"We only corresponded occasionally since I left London. He gained popularity, when he stopped being held back by his loser BFF. Last year I emailed him about dating Paul. Not one word in reply since. I did invite him, he chose not to show up." Alex exhaled a perfect smoke ring. "Fancy sharing a joint?"

"Sure."

Alex liked the sensation of mellowness that descended, like a blanket over his nerves and pent up energy. After their second puff they were joined by James Sprintz. "God, I need some chemical relaxation. Your boyfriend is snogging a tall blond, Greta I think her name is. Ike has already started a betting pool that the bastard either thinks you became perfect and grew breasts or does not care he's a two timing cunt."

"Like I'm jealous or possessive. He can fuck who he likes. I've been waiting for him to realise he's over his brief flirtation with homosexuality since last summer. I'm gay and he's not quite. He only tops, never lets me finger him and only sucks me off once in a blue moon. Hell, Cassian puts it out more. Its not mutually inclusive. Open, relaxed, no stupid promises or expectations. He has Great Expectations as the Mr. Roscoe Industries, Communications and Holdings. Frigid WASP wife by the time he's thirty is a must and heir before he's forty. I'm the illusion of freedom and choice, maybe even love. He's more deluded about us than I am. If we make it until we're twenty-four I'll be impressed. Once he takes his place on the company boards he will become a conservative, completely bland asshat. Now, I'm going to find someone else to scratch my itch and fill the hole left in my chest where my heart used to be. I start flirting and Paul will be all grumpy and jealous, just you watch." Like a panther, Alex slunk into the room and started acting like a star struck fan to the big time rower wanting to get into Sabina's pants. He was camping it up and pitching his low moans of appreciation over sporting prowess with seductive glances, licks of his lips and soft touches on the tall Adonis's body. Paul stood behind Alex. "Time to get back to my hotel. You coming Lexie?"

Alex turned and smiled. "Is Greta joining us?"

Paul looked sheepish and blushed "You wouldn't mind?"

"I like threesomes as long as you show me enough attention. I prefer cock as you know." Alex was in a good mood as he had left Sabina and James snogging in the back yard. The young German was much more Edward's idea of a decent boyfriend, considering he was already running his own investment fund, very profitable one.

…

They had made it with a record deal signed with Lost&Alone Records, the new label run by the former top A&R man from Sony. Alex had a sneaky suspicion the silent partners for this venture were Dieter Sprintz and Leanne James. They were the third band to sign with an amazingly generous contract. This was their second deal, the first went sour after Leanne's lawyer binned the offered contract and called the exec in the meeting an unscrupulous shark. Paul had headhunted them a decent manager, a young Harvard Business School graduate recommended by his father's former secretary and current CEO of Roscoe Industries. Daisy Millward was one scary lady and a fellow Londoner, originally hailing from Swiss Cottage.

Their small unit now included a sound engineer and producer, both of whom had been shadowing their last three live shows. Alex hated the fact he was completely green to this process, as the three CD's they had put out themselves had been little more than live recordings with only minimal attempts at multi-tracking and post-production. He liked the raw edge and wondered on what they would end up sounding like. As the ultimate control was with the studio, it could still all go pear shaped. Alex was sitting on is hands to stop himself biting his nails.

"Chill, axeman. It's just a rundown of the songs we are putting in for the album this afternoon. Your acoustic version of Stockholm Syndrome has made it onto the list. Its single material man."

Alex leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "It's too personal… shit I talk of falling for a guy."

In an attempt at reassurance Cassian countered with "It's all written from the dual perspective of the both the abusing asshole who assaulted you and sweet and not so innocent 14 year old you. Double third person, not one I in it." Cassian over the past two years had pieced together the full horror story of espionage work, abuse not excitement. He then asked "Why did you never tell us the truth after Point Blanc, about being blackmailed into operations? Seriously my mom, Dieter, even Paul's bitch of a grandmother would have gotten you away from MI6 if they had known."

"Coulda, shoulda, woulda, but I thought I could handle it. I'm fucked in the head and need you guys to tell me when I get caught up in my control issues. Yassen is more my mirror image than Julius ever was. I was a hairs breath from becoming an assassin, either a government sanctioned one or freelance. Thank God I went nuts. I know, I know, I still am nuts. I have told Gray a million times to get a less flaky front man; but he's under his sister's thrall. She is doing the album artwork?"

"Yeah… already sent through her initial mock ups. I haven't seen them. Ike just shrugged when I asked, so it's all still in the air. Early days, early days. Stop worrying, we are here for two months. Chill little brother." The dark haired friend moved in to hug Alex. He could see his hero was teetering on panic, well out of his comfort zone. The keyboard magician would be having words with the entire team to be on alert as the pressure of this make or break achievement was getting to their most fragile member. He was glad to be sharing an apartment with his closest friend during their recording sessions in the city of almost constant rain, Seattle was even wetter than San Francisco. He would ensure visits, messages and phone calls from Liz, Edward and Paul were frequent to distract Alex from his own demons.

Two weeks in and not one song finalised. Alex hated the whole process of dissecting his songs into a thousand pieces and then rebuilding them a bit at a time. Playing his guitar to the backing track was not so bad, but singing on his own words in a booth to the criticisms and suggestions of all listening was making his skin crawl. He was beginning to hate his own compositions, hate the sound of his own voice and he no longer wanted to get up in the mornings. It was 10pm and the producer knew he was not getting the full performance from AJ. His voice cracked on the verse and he burst into tears and then screamed hysterically for the voices from the booth to shut the fuck up as he pulled off his headphones.

Alex knew he was having a flashback as soon Ike started softly soothing him. He looked at the drummer and started to laugh. Ike had been there trying to calm him after his breakdown during lunch at school, over the stupid captain of the soccer team suggesting he try out. The jock trying to include the school hero in their world. His physical wounds had healed, again a bullet grazed his kidney and lung, but the damage healed remarkably quickly with the organs still functioning perfectly; but paranoia and self-hatred was ingrained with no escape route. Laughing over his dream of an apprenticeship with Fulham or Chelsea, turned down by Ian just before their holiday to Colorado, when he had been enticed into Ian's world of shadows and lies. Then the progression to hopeless tears, panic and then the vomiting, then being led away by paramedics and four days in a psychiatric unit. "Fuck off, Ike! I need air. Sick of this fucking song. Making me miss him so much." Alex stood up and staggered out of the booth and through the emergency exit and the running off into the night; away from the memories to sit and try to gain control of his emotions.

Ike had tried to grab his friend but could just not keep up with him sprinting away like an Olympic champion. He strolled back into the building to lay down the law. "Fuck, G-man! A full fucking breakdown like at school! I knew he was unhappy about this song but WTF? Have we just fucked everything up because that producer is after a Billboard Top 100 single? We were never about that. Cass get back to your apartment and get him to eat, talk, sleep whatever, but that track is binned."

…

By 2pm, Cass left the apartment and headed back to the studio. Alex had been a no show all night. He would talk to Liz tonight if he still had not turned up, confident the guitarist would have gone home, if he was really upset.

At five, they were back working on mixing the album opener, the track closest to completion. Alex walked in at 5:30 carrying a new guitar and a bottle of vodka, and reeking of cigarette smoke. "Hi guys, had a rethink… scrap what we recorded so far. I know how to make that track work. We nail it tonight. Vocals need to be edgy and energetic not a durge, but first I need a piss."

At 7am the next morning the producer was happy and told Alex the single was nailed. Not for the album, but a stand alone release. He then at and picked up his new acoustic guitar and started practicing chords. He had solved his fears over the track being unsuitable by pushing his vocal range to the limit.

….

Paul had finished his second year at uni, he had an internship at a Roscoe subsidiary in Silicon Valley for ten weeks in July, August and September. He was joining Alex at his home, before a short break in Mexico sunning themselves. He parked outside the suburban home. He knew Liz and Edward were in LA. The door was answered by Cassian.

The tall New Yorker frowned "Have I been replaced?"

"No fear on that, Paul Baby. Liz wanted me to babysit until you got here. Lexie is managing his own detox, as he's been drinking like a fish, popping uppers and downers and smoking and snorting the good stuff. He's been clean for three days and he ain't pretty at the moment. I fear this is him when we record. He has to detach himself from his writing process, from the memories using chemical means. So, I have been sleeping in his bed with him, but only because of his night terrors. I'm warning you that he is close to breaking and for this holiday, you have to put his needs first."

"So, mama bear is OK with this?" Paul was sure the Pleasure's would have signed their son up for rehab straight away.

"Liz knows Alex is a long term commitment, never going to fix him. Coping is average, overall he does better than that. He had a meltdown over one of his songs. He just needs to get his head in a better place. No fucking girls on him. For Christ's sake act like a concerned and caring boyfriend. Do not yoyo between flirting with every girl in town then getting moronically jealous if Lexie takes an interest in eye candy of his own. He's not an addict, he's just getting over a bump in the road."

….

Alex arrived back in Seattle relaxed, tanned and had regained the weight lost during his drink and drug bing over the month since recording had finished. This afternoon was the big press conference over the album due for release at the end of September followed by a six week tour of small but hip and happening venues. They had enough time to refashion their set for the changes to tracks on the album and reflect its pacing, tone and overall concept with backing visuals. He could not wait to get out on the road again. He was actually positive again as he gathered up his two guitar cases and his overnight bag from baggage reclaim.

He hugged his band mates in turn at the hospitality room and grabbed a bottle of chilled sparkling water. "So, I got the low down from Paul that we are having a joint twenty-first birthday bash at New Years in Tokyo." Paul was the oldest already having reached his majority, then Dimitry in two days with James and Alex the youngest, not 21 until 2008. The billionaire was now in full control of his legacy and had celebrated over a small intimate dinner on his father's yacht. Alex knew it was almost the swan song of their relationship as corporate commitments meant their meet ups would get harder and harder to arrange.

Cassian smiled, "Yeah we are all booked. Friends and family as well. Mom can't wait. Sushi, sake, clubbing, karaoke. Best birthday ever." He then turned serious and put his hand on Alex's arm. "So, Paul was good to you?"

"The best… poor guy, he has the world on his shoulder for his dad's memory and legacy. This is probably the only time he can be sort of free. Can't even tour with us anymore. We were shadowed by three security guys 24/7 in Mexico. I will do all I can to make him feel loved, wanted and with no pressure from me. His darling grandmama is arranging suitable dates for him now. His fling with me is youthful indisgression. He won't, can't be mine, but I never expected that. He has started to be more relaxed about sex. He's trying to persuade me to think outside of my box and considerthe white picket fence, Stepford wife and 2.4 children. No, not happening. I want a guy with sad soul, who goes for nights in watching movies, eating takeout and who understands that I have a million control issues. Paul is almost perfect."

Cassian could not but think that description fit all the guys from that school. Alex was not after sex, he wanted companionship and unspoken understanding.


	5. Chapter 5

In the past four weeks, Alex answered press questions with bland, noncommittal answers, both Cassian and Gray being gregarious and confrontational enough to keep the journalists happy. Ike shrugged and stated he played drums as both bold statement and excuse for no comment on either music or politics. The overall impression was that AJ was just the pretty guy on vocals and that the keyboard and bass player were the creative drive behind the band.

It was the teenager from San Mateo writing for both the Examiner and the school paper that asked the hardest questions, showing there was more to this band than their ages suggested. "Hi, Gray; the single is great, but hard hitting as it is about child sexual abuse. Was itwritten from your own experience or an observation?"

The dark haired bass player smiled that the ruse over his authorship of all material was bust. "I'll have to pass you over to AJ, who wrote Stockholm Syndrome."

Alex got that the school gossip had him as a completely socially inept perpetual virgin, afraid to leave his room, therefore with nothing to write about. "Yes, it does describe a past relationship. I was fourteen when I met a guy. Well, it was obsession from both parties, him in position of power very much as the abuser and me the horny, clueless teen, on the cusp of exploring his own wants and desires; but skewed by the situation, as it was a matter of coping under the extreme of being completely powerless and the added burden of anger and hate on my part. The song explores the similarities as my abuser had been badly abused himself as a teenager and the fact he was pushing for me to comprehend his life was no life for me. I got lucky and found happiness and stability when I was adopted at fifteen. My life before was shit. Being neglected, then abused really does fuck you up. You don't survive these sorts of things and remain well adjusted. Recording that song was really picking off a few emotional scabs which really should have been left alone. My therapist has suggested it's better to confront these things so you can move forward. For the record in a convoluted, twisted and masochistic way, I miss him, mourn him, as I get the fact we were so similar as fellow survivors of Stockholm Syndrome situations. The mental scarring from that making us both afraid of forming new relationships."

"Your adoptive father, Edward Pleasure, is an investigative journalist. Did you meet him as a result of one of his stories?"

"Sabina was the one who introduced me to her parents. We met socially through sports at school in London and we kept in touch after they emigrated. They took me in after my guardian died in Cairo." Alex stared at the current senior asking the hard questions. "I have no real interest in Ed's current or past work. I did not even read the pieces he wrote about the incident at San Mateo, even the bits about me. Sabina told me all the best bits in his Cray book were redacted because of the Official Secrets Act."

…

With that over, Alex wanted nothing more than to be in his own bed, order in a burger and write the song down that was spinning around his head about Paul. Daisy smiled briefly before her full serious 'I'm still working' expression resumed. "Just a few things, AJ. Anja Keynes has expressed an interest in two of your compositions, ones not on the band playlist. These are published under your own name". Alex used Cassian's publication company, Point Blanc Music, for everything rejected by Gray as unsuitable.

"Which ones?" None of his other compositions had ever been performed that he could recall and only the band or friends and family had heard them.

"Love that leaves you behind and Ghost and mirrors. She heard a bootleg of your acoustic soundcheck at San Mateo."

"You are shitting me. I only sang them for Holly. Sorry, but if the fucking music teacher Dale Rand recorded them to sell, I need to sue him. Right, can't piss of a Diva like Ms. Keynes. Sure she can arrange them as she needs. I can email her copies of the sheet music. It's just simple piano and guitar accompaniment though."

Alex ended up sending his superstar fan six songs that evening. All compositions that would never get played by the band. Gray would only accept love songs that were hidden behind psychobabble and humiliation.

It was close to 11 as he played with words, already happy with the basic chord structure of the song he was composing, when his phone vibrated. He looked to see it was Liz. A woman normally tucked up in bed reading at this time.

"Alex darling, how are you?"

"Fine, in the mid flow of writing; but I should get some sleep. What's up, mum?"

"Edward was phoned by one of his friend's about your press conference. You know journalists are the worst gossips on the planet. Are you OK considering you have publically stated you were sexually abused?"

"In many ways it's easier to forgive Yassen than it is to forgive Ian or Blunt. I had my blip over him six weeks ago. I feel free of it somehow. Now I should confront the mountain of shit over Julius, rather than deny or avoid my issues over his actions. At the moment, I'm considering happier things and I'm writing about Paul. God, I love him… I even said it to him. He said it back. I wish… I wish it could be just like Mexico forever; but the fact I want that I know I've jinxed it. Hopefully back to long distance connections with intense physical reunions. God I wish he was here now. Bet he's still at work. So, how's it on location in Atlanta?"

"Long days, wonderful set designs and the whole art department, wigs and make-up are out of this world. Glad I went outside my comfort zone and stretched myself for this. Miss you and so does Edward. Sabina's thinks Atlanta is fab. Not that she's here to talk to you, out with the Danny the assistant director. James will be so jealous. She's burning the candle at both ends, but its only two weeks until she flies back to London. See you that weekend, no overruns on your rehearsals allowed. Glad you're back in your groove, Ciao."

Alex then texted Paul 'Alone, horny and hard.' Facetime was wonderful as he saw the tired freckled face of his lover. "Miss you baby."

Which caused Paul to laugh and state "Miss my cock more like! You only want me for my body; better than the bitches here who just see my bank balance. I will be another forty minutes, or so. Then you can keep me up all night. I need it as there will be no blow jobs for weeks, absolute hell!"

Alex was damn sure half the workforce at Palo Alto would put it out for the future company chairman and he knew Paul had at least two on off girlfriends in London.

…

Album and single were released to moderately good reviews and sold out tour. The single then picked up airplay in clubs, rock and main stream college radio.

The twenty-five date tour of college venues started tonight. Cassian stood drinking his coffee watching Alex go through his set warm up. From vocal scales and his favourite classical pieces on acoustic guitar to covers of his favourite rock songs on electric guitar. The dark haired Californian loved watching his best friend play, sing and create. He had been amazed at how quickly Alex had gone from average school guitarist to virtuosity. Camp had been the making of him. In 2002, the ex-spy had only a cursory knowledge of music, but those months spent at home, as a result of chronic insomnia, the teenager had been driven to push his creativity to replace the horror of death and destruction.

The songs the gifted guitarist currently penned were about love, the sensuality and pull of sex, regret and power play in relationships and the crippling fear of loss. Mature beyond his actual age of twenty. The keyboard player was himself happy with one night stands, never dates; sex with unknowns, never friends. Alex already in his third year of going steady in a supposedly open relationship. Paul was well aware that his boyfriend did not do casual, in fact had a phobia of strangers in his personal space. The last time Cassian and Paul had spoken the New Yorker had begged Alex's best friend to get him to explore dating, partying and being more open. All of the survivors of Grief's grand plan were damaged. James Sprintz had rejected schooling completely like Alex. He had trained with his father's bodyguards and gained his baccalaureate independently, a mirror of his hero. Dating Sabina Pleasure as well, a relationship that was truly unhealthy, if what Cassian assumed was true. No, James would never hurt Sabina out of fear of her very capable vengeful brother. Joe and Tom had escaped military school and were both now anti-globalisation activists, rejecting wealth and privilege completely. Hugo was an asexual and agoraphobic loner, only conversing occasionally with his 'friends'. Nicholas was only interested in sporting prowess, skiing at national level, every event proof that he was always escaping. Paul who had bagged their hero but was still unable to fully commit, love and escape his own sense of failure. Then Dimitry, already on his career path to becoming a clone of his father.

Paul's comment about Alex's issues addressed his own. Dating, the thought made him shudder. No the two friends were coping, thriving in a way. Fuck normality, their trajectory was for another type of life.

….

Rather than sleep on the pull out sofa bed, Alex had climbed into Cassian's bed knowing the guy would be back in a few hours, sated after fucking a groupie and not care about the squatter in his bedroom. Alex had work tomorrow at Capitol Studios, only a short drive from Cass' apartment.

Daisy was more than happy with his collaboration with an R&B megastar, who only worked with the best producers and arrangers. Alex was little better than unknown. How the hell had an A-List celeb got hold of a bootleg from San Mateo High anyway?

At 9, the taxi dropped him off with his two favourite guitars for his warm up, not sure if electric or acoustic or both were required. The college fund, invested by Ian, had been spent on a custom Manson, after he turned down his place at the Royal College of Music. A guitar that was a work of art, built to his playing style. His life a check list of all things to piss off his late uncle and in turn Tulip Jones. Every time he smoked a joint, snorted cocaine or chased the dragon he was sticking two fingers up at their legacy. No coffee this morning, not if he was asked to sing. He was nervous, but in a good way; not puking his guts up or wanting to run away. This was worth all the ribbing he'd been getting from Ike and Gray. This was being taken seriously as a musician.

Laden down with his two guitar cases he smiled at the receptionist. "Hi, I'm AJ Pleasure. I'm recording with Ms. Keynes today."

The receptionist called through to studio and the publicist Alex had talked to yesterday came to show him through. "Anya is not due till 11, can I get you anything, AJ?"

"A cup of hot water would be great. I have lemon and honey with me. I have my own routine for sound checking with both my guitars. I'll then go through my vocal exercises as I find that relaxing."

Anja arrived to the entire production team discussing her guest. "What's the story, Milo?"

"Your rock guitarist is a joy to behold. Classically trained in both guitar and opera singing. He turned down a place at the Royal College of Music in London last year because his band had another tour lined up. His vocal range is baritone to countertenor. He says he was tricked into being the frontman when he lost a game of rock, paper, scissors with the drummer. First you have got to check out his sister's youtube page. Your boy has a love of female singing artiste's and my gaydar is spot on. He has been with his boyfriend for three years, who is called Paul and is at studying computing in London."

"Well, I had wondered on such a sensitive intuitive song from someone so young. Has he recorded anything yet?"

"Yeah, he did the written solo then improvised for both acoustic and electric. He's amazing on both."

Anja looked through the glass at the guitarist, her first impression of him in the flesh was that he looked impossibly young. The video she had seen, his face had been obscured by large goggles and a bandana. He had gone from school to playing the club, bar and festival circuit. Blond and handsome, but as he played chords his whole being spoke of carrying a burden of sadness.


	6. Chapter 6

With a monumental hangover threatening, dizzy and disorientated and wanting the low steady buzzing to stop, Alex picked up his phone as it rattled on the hardwood floor and automatically answered with a slurred "'Yello?"

"Partying hard, Trouble?" Paul said sounding half angry and half amused.

"I may have drunk one too many pints of guinness before I started on the vodka martinis, but you are only 21 once. Not a patch on Tokyo though. Not with Liz, Sabina and Leannora singing a Karaoke duet at the sake bar at 5am. So, why are you ringing? Something good get posted on social media, because I woke up next to Ike, both of us fully clothed though I'm not sure where we are. Shit… its Holly's bedroom. She's not here. Its a complete mystery what we got up to after we started watching some Zombie film downstairs when we got in at 2."

"I take it Anja was there."

"Yeah, my best girl was lining up the drinks, though she went home with Daisy just after midnight."

"Anja's gay?"

"Duhh. I told you our dates were pure beard. Are you doing a hulk on me?"

"Yeah, jealous I could not be there. Miss you… even miss that A-hole Cass. Hanging with James is cool, but he's not a party animal like you guys."

Alex could hear the longing in Paul's voice, times like this he regretted not settling on uni and the chance of living with Paul full time, but that would most likely have been the kiss of death for them; too much too soon. "You graduate in four months, then what? Job in New York. Get us a place and I'll move in. Or get me a place near you and we'll be together whenever I'm not on the road or recording." Suggesting moving from San Francisco was a big step for everyone.

"I own a huge skyscraper with the best penthouse in Manhattan. I want you… I'm ready for that, Lexie. You are mine and I've been such a dork not being yours. Can you make it to London before my exams start in May?"

"I'll move heaven and earth to get to you. I think Anja's doing four dates at the Albert Hall in April. Fancy seeing the must see show this season?"

Paul ignored that, if Lexie came to London, they would have better things to do. "I promise I'm out of the closet. No hiding anymore. You are worth all the grief my grandmother can fling. I love you so much, Lexie."

"Love you to the stars and back" Alex put the phone in his back pocket and the regretted every word. Never make plans, no promises, no comebacks. "I'm an idiot, Ike."

"No, AJ. You are right on the button. If he can't or won't treat you right, flip him the finger. Its your four year anniversary in July. He needs to be thinking about rings and promises." Ike sat up and took a good look at the pink unicorn wallpaper. "Shit, I thought Holly's room would be a shrine to your sorry ass."

"Don't look in her keepsake box under the bed." Alex then left the room to empty his bladder and then to walk home. No he was happy with the status quo, he could not imagine anything better than his room at his family home with mater and pater. The perfect place to get back a sense of self after tours or recording and better even than luxury holidays.

…..

 _San Francisco Examiner_

 _The debut album of the San Mateo rock legends Forgotten Heroes seems to have been a warm up for superstardom and their new release has avoided the 'difficult second album' syndrome and shot straight to Number one on the Billboard Rock Chart. Whereas the best track from 2007 was their surprise hit debut single, not included on 'Thousand Yard Stare'. 'Smoking Gun' pulls no punches from the opening track with a rock anthem on alienation. 'Hiding' is the perfect mix of complex bass and guitar accompanying heavy dance vibes from the drums and keyboard, with the pinnacle of the low melodic tones of AJ Pleasure, whose lyrics speak of alienation on par with Pink Floyd's Masterpiece 'The Wall'._

Paul then stopped reading to enjoy the look of bemused embarrassment on Alex's face and then added "Its old news for you since Anya has already topped the Billboard Hot 100 with two of your songs."

Alex could not help but look at the large black and white photograph hung on the wall opposite of the cover shot of their new album. Alex naked, riddled with bullet holes, lying in a pool of black goo and a neon yellow plectrum just out of reach. The mugshots of the three other band members as murder suspects relegated to the back cover. The video for that song shot in Mexico, with Alex dressed as an assassin awaiting payment. "Shut up about me, talk about your new range of phones and tablets or the video game system. Even, Edward's book on Yassen, just not the fact I leave tomorrow. Sick of all the fucking publicity shit already and we have yet to start our world tour. Would Gray forgive me if I bailed to stay home with you. I could get a shrink to say it was agoraphobia or enochlophobia?"

"What the hell is enochlophobia?" enquired the blond businessman.

"Fear of crowds, yes I do have it. I'm not scared of performing per say, just the audience. Has me bricking myself every time I go on stage. I thought it was bad before, but stadiums are a fucking nightmare. I'll probably not sleep right until I'm back here."

"Is that why you woke up last night?"

Alex had been woken by nightmares, but that had quickly been forgotten when Paul had interrupted his minor freak out with a wonderful blow job. "Maybe we can both ditch our jobs to spend the rest of our days on a tropical island fucking without a care in the world?"

"The last full meeting of the Alumni had us all agree to be the best of the best by our thirtieth birthdays. Only then can we discuss retirement. To recap our set goals. You and Cass as mega-rock stars minus the dying of a heroin overdose. Me breaking the top five of the richest men on the planet. Nick skiing at the Olympics. Jamie becoming richer than his dad and not going to prison for insider dealing. Hugo becoming the lead conspiracy theorist on the planet. Joe wants to hack the Homeland Security database and open source all their dirty laundry. Tom wants to head the Greenpeace global anti-pollution campaign. Dimitry to make a Directorate Head in the Russian Federal Security Services, because we all know he is no diplomatic aide." The plan to be more than their parent's legacies or successful as the complete opposite.

Paul stood to put on his hand made tailored jacket. His security waiting outside, to escort him to his office two blocks away. Paul Roscoe had chosen to live in an adjacent penthouse apartment, the building also owned by him, rented under Alex's name for nominal rent of $10 a year. A home for both of them, but in his heart Alex preferred his room in San Francisco. The professionally styled, minimalist apartment was decorated to Paul's taste. The only items on show of Alex's were his guitar and amp collection. He suddenly felt the need to splurge and knew Sabina would love to go shopping in London in two days. More than that he needed a quiet word with Jamie, as his chosen fund manager to buy not one but a couple of boltholes, hidden under the anonymity of company holdings. Alex had earned well over two million dollars from Anya's album and single sales, money that kept rolling in. Another six of his songs had been recorded and made the charts for other artists. Cassian was now a producer in his own right and had started signing acts to his own label, a hit would also propel him into the multimillionaire earning bracket.

….

It had been two months in Japan, Australia and New Zealand, The tour ending with three back to back shows at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in Palo Alto. The final night a free concert for fan club members, alumni or students at San Mateo and the prizes in a lottery to fund local hospital, police and fire department benevolent funds in the Bay Area. Alex was sat in first class nursing a vodka martini. Cassian snoring across from him. In ten hours he would be in the bath at home, Liz had already promised her lasagne for dinner; a treat Cassian was anticipating even more. A cheese board was also promised, comprising the selection of stilton, proper cheddar, Wensleydale, brie and roquefort. With a press of the call button, Alex needed another dose of liquid relaxation and he might sleep.

"Vodka martini please. Sod it, make that two." Olives counted as food, didn't they. It would be only a small lie if he said he'd eaten on the plane. Sabina and James were staying as well. The pair celebrating their engagement. Alex had downed the first lethal cocktail in one and stared at the second dose of muscle relaxant. "Bottom's up."

Alex was sat on the patio, reflecting the fact he had hated the last month of hotels, TV, radio, sound checks, shows and the creeping feeling of paranoia. Edward was sat rubbing his leg and nursing a beer. "I would not go inside if I were you as the fashionistas are discussing wedding dresses. Are you really going to spend 20 grand on a designer original for Sabina?"

"What ever she wants. Did you check out that 7 carat monstrosity on her finger? A List wedding with matching security, for the only child of Dieter Sprintz." Alex pulled out the bottle of vodka he had brought home. "Want some, Pops?"

"No, Alex. I'm good with plain old beer. So, back to self medicating?"

"Yeah, started after the interview from hell at Sydney Airport including a nice shake down with the spook squad. I know Cassian has been keeping you in the loop regarding my degeneration into nutty behaviour. Paul has made his displeasure know about the press speculation that I'm an addict."

"Are you?" Edward queried as he closely observed his son's body language.

"I'm drinking, a lot, sure; but I've not been taking anything other than prescribed sleeping tablets, anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication. My paranoia was in overdrive and I did not want to get busted for possession. So, after Sunday's concert I've got a spa week booked at a nice place in the mountains. Complete vegan detox. I swear on all I hold dear, I'm not injecting or snorting or smoking anything stronger than the occasional Marlboro. I'm just so tired, Dad. Go to my room and not come out again for several months tired." Alex looked up at the familiar grey cloud rolling in from the Pacific. "I've not even been writing much. The place near Modesto is discrete unlike most celebrity rehab places and Joe Byrne says I can really talk to them, about everything. Hang out MI6 and the Australians out to dry." Alex sighed and broke his silence over his heart ache. "Paul refused to come out to Japan. He was meant to, said he had work commitments. I checked with his PA, no meetings. He's distancing himself from crazy, ugly, useless me and I have seen the pictures of him and that a nice, non-crazy, beautiful supermodel."

Edward shifted his chair over and gripped the guitarists hands and kissed them. "You are the bravest man I have ever met, at fourteen you were a better man than me. You and Sabina like twins of stubbornness, beauty and strength. Those scars are like mine, souvenirs of our pigheaded refusal to back down against evil megalomaniacs. So, a weeks assessment in a clinic, then back here. Liz and I will look after you. Let you rest. Get your mojo back."

Alex laughed at that and took a gulp of the burning grain alcohol, "To life, daddy dear. May our enemies rue the day they crossed us."


	7. Chapter 7

Alex came down to breakfast two days after returning from his detox to eat millet flakes and soya milk. Intent on clean living, getting fit and forgetting about everything beyond these walls; to see Gray sat drinking coffee with Edward and Liz.

"Thought you guys were sick of my sorry, arse?"

"I am, AJ. You know how shy Holly is?"

"Yeah, but she's nowhere near as bad as me."

"Right. She's done a film class. Wants to make short film about the school incident. Sent me around to sound you out about participation."

"Anything for her, man. Well, short of full reenactment but I don't think school would go for that. The album cover was kind of reenactment, but the type from my nightmares, when I'm in class totally naked. Probably better if she comes here to record my bit; in a nice controlled environment. Less likely to make me completely freak."

The founder of the Forgotten Heroes then took a good look at the kid who had saved his sister and was functioning despite the overwhelming urge to still be locked in his room, safe behind the excuse of fear. It was not fear but paranoia, completely justifiable after all the abuse of his teenage years. "Cool, I'll drag Ike over as well, make it a three way interview."

Alex then got the fact Sabina had already done her piece. "Are we the last to be filmed?"

"Yeah. She needs to get a final cut done pronto for a submission to Sundance to get a distribution deal. See you later. Get some rest."

….

Holly Golightly Degrassi was petite, a woman sick of looking far younger than her 23 years. She was had to admit her chosen look did not help, she did not wear make-up, she wore androgynous clothes and a fashionable pixel cut making her look like a teenage boy. At seventeen, her offer to handle publicity and artwork for her brother's band had turned into a full time job including handling social media, website design, photography, graphic design and a now large fan base. Her office a new building in her parent's backyard, with three assistants. Her and Gray's parents both career cops, mom a trainer at the academy and her dad a detective on the major crimes unit. Holly had been set on becoming a cop until that fateful day. She hated guns now and would not ever handle one if she could help it. Grayson had always wanted to be a rock musician, either with his own band or a session musician. He had played in various school jazz bands, choirs and orchestras. Holly had discovered art through her therapy sessions. Painting the blood stains that haunted her dreams. She appreciated Munch's scream. Her room decorated pink and girly to hide her own dark thoughts, which filled her sketch books. Photography and film were her new loves. Soon, she would leave the comfort of home to shrug off her own cocoon of safety. She empathised greatly with AJ, a boy only let those who knew him before the tragedy in Cairo call him Alex. He was still living a half life, his relationship with Paul was him gripping on to a safe and familiar, not the pain of uncertainty and the unknown, unable to trust. Coming home was him gathering his strength to emerge from Paul's shadow. She would have moved heaven and earth to keep someone like AJ close, happy and loved. Her hero needed a great boyfriend, not an uptight, closeted control freak.

Filming finished and AJ had dragged her upstairs to his room. Neat, clean, tastefully decorated. A few photos of family life, none from before the Summer 2002, like he arrived on Earth as a scarred, jumpy and blank faced fifteen year old. During his interview AJ had broken down and cried when speaking of his short time at High School, comforted by Liz and Ike. It was the crowning glory of her documentary, the hard fact was the hero of day was barely coping with the aftermath.

…

Holly at eighteen had been pretty, popular , if a bit shy and giggly, now she was stony faced, cool and bitterly sarcastic, only when in her own safe place at home and work, with friends, did the kind, compassionate, fun loving, young woman reemerge. It had all changed over her own injuries that day resulting in a disfiguring scar across her cheek and a chunk of left ear missing, proof that the bullet had nearly killed her. In hospital, awaiting the plastic surgeon and under observation for shock and a slight concussion, her grandmother had a blithely stated it was fine as makeup and her lovely long hair would cover up the damage. In a fit of anger she had transformed herself into an uncompromising survivor, her scars on show, destroying her mask of femininity by cutting off her hair. Like Sinead 0'Conner she was an unflinching feminist, not a victim. She knew AJ was crippled by his own body image issues played out through strict exercise regimes and his weird attitude to bland food. Sabina had become an outspoken spokesperson for all causes, protesting, petitioning and volunteering. Now working for Liberty in London, living with AJ's other BFF, Jamie. She liked the dark haired German despite his scary initial impression, his biting wit matched her own.

This was not the first time she had invaded the guitarist's inner sanctum with the abstract art prints on the wall, as well as his seven wall mounted guitars. Two amps and a seriously expensive sound system were show. She knew he stored books in his closet with his clothes. His laptop on his desk. He only did basic recording and editing of demos. Leaving the technical expertise to the rest of the band. By his bed were sheets of manuscript paper. Two sheets covered in almost illegible scribbles. No mess, the only thing out of place was the small refrigerator, containing sparkling water and coca cola.

AJ had dismissed his band mates and was taking Holly out for a meal, to prove to all he was not reverting to bad introverted behaviour. Reaching out to be social with her as she got hiding away completely. Sabina's best friend so like all his school friends from France, all damaged by their stay there. Tormented and abused by Miss Stomachbag and Dr. Grief and his creepy sons.

Alex arrived back into his room, fresh from the shower, shaved and dressed in clothes Sabina and Liz would approve of, designer and tasteful. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, I need a Martinelli's tofu burger. They are the best with all the trimmings. And frozen peanut butter and chocolate chip iced dessert. Are you driving?"

"Yeah, Liz and Ed are going to Pierre's for date night. I've got the keys for Edward's nasty Volvo. We are not travelling in style."

After their meal, where AJ had relented to allow Holly to call him Alex. He had confessed that he was not returning to the East Coast and was moving to a place off Wiltshire Blvd in LA, close to Cassian and Ike. A small place, but he needed to get a car, nothing flash. Like Cassian he needed something roomy enough for his equipment. He was not going out to buy a fancy sports car. Material goods beyond his work equipment and clothes were kept minimal. Best if he could move everything in one car load. At least LA was close-ish to home. He was more reticent about his personal life. Like Cassian, dating was not his idea of a good time.

Alex sat in the bar across from the Vegan restaurant, he had bought Holly a Sea Breeze but he was sticking to water. "So, still seeing that photographer Sabina thought was Mr. I love myself?"

"Yeah, mostly because its great sex with no strings and my dad hates him. I'm not looking for Mr Darcy and I want to be a career girl. Grayson can do the whole marriage and kids thing. I think I'm fine as número uno, might change my mind if I fall in love."

Alex sighed "Love is great in principal. I know Paul loves me like I love him but living together was too close to being imprisoned together, and I never meant for him to feel like that. Better I step away and let him fuck up his next few relationships, then he'll get its him that has the problem. He was just using my blip of drinking as an excuse. Hell all I want is home and safe; so we were incompatible in the end. Love does not conquer all. Not when you both have shit loads of emotional baggage. I hate crowds or people being overly familiar. The fact I spoke up about Yassen and Nile means most people get the fact I'm fucked in the head about personal space."

"You need to build that home though. There are great guys out there, ones that aren't judgmental control freaks."

Alex laughed "I was never with Paul for his winning personality, nor his bank balance. The guy is hung. Best cock in the world."

Holly smiled at the crudeness "you'll have to make do with second best then. A guy with personality but not so well endowed."

…..

Alex was at the local ccommunity centre for an AA meeting, when he noted rape and sexual abuse counselling on an hour later. He made a note of both. He was not really an alcoholic just self medicated; nor was he really fucked up by the actions of Nile and Yassen; he was just freaked by strangers touching him. The word denial was on his conscience. Both excuses sounded like he was avoiding his problems. He would talk things over and just be Alex the guitarist from London… not AJ the rock star from San Francisco.

"We have a new participant tonight. Want to introduce yourself?"

"Hi… I'm Alex. I just sat through my AA meeting thinking about this session. When I was 14 I was assaulted… physically and sexually along with a truck load of emotional abuse as well. It started when my uncle died…."

…..

Alex had to come clean with his boyfriend, in two days he was off to Nashville to record their third album and Rob had no idea he was successful. He had kept his days at rehearsal, in meetings or recording with Cassian as just doing session work or going after jobs. He had been working as a session musician for his friend. Most days spent just writing or relaxing. He had been dating for six weeks, only going to Rob's place to make out or for a fumble; they had yet to have full sex. Decision made, they would take the next step then he would come clean about his job taking him to Tennessee for the next four to six months.

Alex led his boyfriend upstairs to his pocky apartment. He was moving forward. He was making better decisions and accepting a date from Robert Sanchez was one of his better choices. A guy Holly had met and approved of, as kind, understanding, witty and patient. A volunteer at the counselling centre where Alex went to group, he got that this boyfriend was skittish, likely to freak at certain things and was always willing to talk. Each hurdle so far had been cleared as intimacy escalated into passion.

"Welcome to my home. If you look in the kitchen you'll know that I don't cook much." In the two room space, just open plan living area and bed/bathroom. Rob looked at the two gold awards next to sound system and the five guitars. As a session bass player he knew the guitars were all custom built. Alex was no jobbing guitarist, one of these alone was nearly five grand. "Billboard Top Rock Album and MTV VMA Best Rock Video?" It was a light bulb going on, he had always thought Alex reminded him of some one. "Alex Pleasure… AJ Pleasure! I am so dumb."

"I do try to keep AJ to work and Alex for friends and family. The guys in the band get it. Hell I was still living at home until after writing this number ones for Anya. I told you I moved to LA to be closer to my friends after I broke up with my boyfriend. I just never connected the dots for you."

"Wait, I never knew AJ as in guitarist and lead singer with the forgotten heroes was gay. Weren't you dating Anya Keynes?"

"That girl is like my sister as is Holly, my actual sister's BFF. Paul and I were at boarding school together, remained friends and became lovers, broke up; but we still talk. We are working at remaining friends, easier as he still lives in New York." Alex looked at his current boyfriend. "Enough about the past. Are we moving forward or do you want to take a step back now you know I'm a slightly more successful musician than I let on?"


	8. Chapter 8

22nd December, Alex was in LA to meet Rob's parents for an informal family dinner, before Alex returned north for the typical Christmas in Chez Pleasure of no turkey but a barbecue, no organised religion, no commercialism as plastic and tacky were rejected for hand made presents and decorations. The big party saved for New Years, with friends, games, music accompanied by snacks and party food. Things were slightly different for Robert, with his four sisters, religious parents and large extended family. Alex liked the fact Edward had one brother, divorced, eight years older and not particularly close and Liz with her unmarried older sister as family. Alex was not the only orphan, but he was not close to Sabina's extended family and saw no reason to be, ever the outsider in the reality of happy families.

As Rob drove through Bel Air, Alex blurted out "Cass' mom lives there. They're in Colorado skiing." His friend would be partying and networking in Aspen with very little time spent enjoying the perfect powder. Alex could see Rob was tense, worrying over how his parent's would take meeting his lover.

At twenty-seven the double bass player was now a regular with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra. He was not hopeful that the Sanchez family were as open and accepting as Alex's mom and dad had been. Only the beautiful Sabina had been cryptically cool, with her warning that Alex's had just gotten better at hiding his problems. In turn Rob had been quite forthright with his own mom, that his current boyfriend was considering buying a Malibu home for them both to live in, that they had met through his voluntary work and that Alex attended AA meetings as well as group therapy about a previous assault. His blond haired beau was looking fine in Tom Ford, as he had gone clothes and house shopping with his mom.

Polite small talk on bland subjects was only amusing by Luisa, who was busy on her phone, taking sneaky photos.

"Are you a fan?" Alex asked the dark haired High School Junior.

"Yeah, just downloaded Identify, Seek, Destroy. Its you all writing as a team, I like the fact you can tell."

"Ike wanted a concept. We weeded out our song shortlist and restructured them. I liked that approach as well. It made the process more of a team effort." Alex still preferred touring, but living in Nashville had been weird as well. "We're playing the Hollywood Bowl in March, I can get you four VIP tickets, if you want. I assumed you were like Roberto and not into loud rock music."

Sandro Sanchez watched the exchange between he youngest child and his son's boyfriend. The fifty five year old television producer asked his son "Robert, you said your friend was a guitarist in a band. He must be quite successful to be playing such a large venue."

"Yeah, I didn't find out about how successful until he went to Nasville to record his new album, which made the top twenty in the Hot 200. and is still number one on the Rock Chart. He's touring on and off over the next 13 months, selected dates across the US, Mexico, Brazil and Agentina. Then Europe and Japan, Singapore and finally two festivals New Zealand. Our timetables merge about five times, it's going to be hard."

"And moving in together? Is that wise considering your separations?"

"It's a beautiful house. Alex sold his uncles house in Chelsea to buy this place. His mom is decorating it, the current decor was a bit ostentatious. All closing team colours as it was previously owned by a basketball player." Rob could see his dad did not know what to make of this guitarist.

"Al, why don't you play us your new composition. I'll get your guitar from the car." Rob could see the dismayed look of disapproval from a man who hated 'awful repetitive noise' as he viewed all pop and rock music post 1955.

Sat on a dining room chair, Sandro and Elise Sanchez noted it was a classical acoustic guitar, not an electric abomination. With a quick tune, Alex tapped his foot softly in time and started to play a modern piece, influenced by his love of Philip Glass, repeating melodic phrasing and broken chords. Melancholy to fit the mood of all here.

Sandro then wondered why such an accomplished soloist lowered himself to play in a rock band.

After the recital, which seemed to have broken the ice with Rob's very conservative parents, Alex returned his guitar to the car. As he returned, by habit he moved silently cross the hall and stopped to overhear a frank father and son talk in fast Mexican Spanish. "You have not even tried to be normal, now you are playing wife to this blond macho man. Don't lie to me and say he is the passive partner. He is rich, your sugar daddy. A man four inches taller, bigger, fitter and who acts like a soldier. Don't try and make excuses that this is your normal. It's a sickness and not natural. Your mother may accept it as the modern way of thinking, but what future is there for you? Nothing permanent or good."

"It is good, dad. Good for me. I get to live the good life. Free most of the time as Alex works away so much. Its not love, just a fling nothing more."

Alex could not stand this shit about being a freak because of who he chose to love. Nor was he going to let Rob get away with saying that he was just a bit of fun. He coughed and then stated in his perfect Castillian "I really do not need to be told my feelings, hopes and future mean nothing." He then switched to English "I'm taking my car home." Rob was always planning to stay in LA for the holidays. "Its a rain check on moving in together. I've survived too much shit to put with crap up from anyone. Grow a backbone Rob. Be who you want to be. As for us I don't care. Merry Christmas."

…..

His iPhone was switched off and it was staying off. Alex was not in a brilliant mood as he drove north, straight up the freeway. He would be home before dawn. His Range Rover was easy to drive and comfortable, he played Vaughan Williams and tried not to dwell on the shitty situation he'd left with his ex-boyfriend. It had been good with Rob, but the guy had been hiding his uncertainty of moving in together. A bit of criticism was all he needed to back out. No, he was going to just go home and forget the fact he was just a fling. Not love, not real feelings. He ground his teeth in anger. Not a good way to arrive home. He pulled off the highway to find a motel.

…..

At 10 am he woke and went for a shower. The diner next door was decorated in full Yuletide glory. He ordered blueberry pancakes and orange juice. Not really hungry, just giving him more time to think as he pushed food around his plate. The idea of going off on his own was suddenly enticing. He went to the payphone and rang home, getting the answer machine. "Hi, guys. Its Alex. Just a raincheck, not coming back for the festivities. Need to unwind or something. Don't bother ringing me. My mobile is off."

…

Liz, Sabina, Edward and James walked about Alex's home in Malibu on Boxing Day. It was obvious he was not there and had cleared everything out for his planned stay at home. Only he had not arrived. Three days since the cryptic message on needing to unwind, they had found out he had broken up with Rob. The ex-boyfriend was sorry his words were misinterpreted, that he was just trying to placate his old fashioned father. Something had obviously made Alex run to ground. There was no way they could track him.

Liz stood on the deck watching the surf. "We have to make this pubic. I'm phoning Daisy to get her to do the announcements. Then we inform the police that our son is missing."

…

Alex woke in a dirty bed. Del was not a homebody, his hours spent surfing or partying. His studio apartment only for showering and sleeping. Alex got up at just before 7 to pee, his host mumbled "Put the local news on, need to hear the surf report."

Two weeks ago he had sat watching the surfers at Big Sur for one to come over and invite him to join them. No questions over his situation, just living day by day and moment to moment. Del worked fixing computers and writing code to keep himself, no need for anything beyond his day to day needs.

Alex tried not to think about his life choices with Robert, which had definitely been a case of different wants and needs. All he wanted was mutual trust and a nice bolt hole with the promise of regular sex. He had moved to buy a place, a home, for the sole purpose of sharing it with Robert, who in the end liked the lifestyle but thought their relationship was superficial. As he brushed his teeth, he listened into the local news headlines. "Ten days since local rock star AJ Pleasure was declared missing and there have been no confirmed sightings since his car was discovered parked at Andrew Molera State Park. Fears grow that he has committed suicide."

Alex was stood in ill fitting clothes bought at a thrift store. He looked at his beard and thin face. He did not look like a rock star. He suddenly felt sick, the cops had his car, containing all his precious possessions as he only had his overnight bag with him. He had stupidly left his phone in his car; never thinking anyone would miss him. Sometimes he did not phone home for weeks at a time. Then again, he posted stuff on twitter and Instagram. Two weeks with no social media was unheard of. "Fuck!" He swore out loud at his own self centred, selfish need for space had probably turned his friends and family into nervous wrecks.

"Sorry Del, I have to go home. I'll see you guys sometime."

"Sure thing, Lexie, its been cool. See you around."

Alex hitchhiked the forty moles north to San Mateo in truck bound for Palo Alto and then with a pair of tourists from Germany, happy to converse with a fellow traveller who knew the area. He walked the mile and a half from the Mall to the house in suburbia where the Pleasures lived. He turned the corner, to observe the two news crews on the lawn.

With a shift U-turn he walked over to the Degrassi house, to phone Liz or Edward from there. Detective Mike Degrassi opened the door to a bum, only it was AJ looking like he'd slept in a dumper for two weeks.

Like a nervous teenager on a first date Alex smiled and then coughed in embarrassment "Hi, Sir.. Err... Detective Degrassi, can I use your phone to call home, I seem to have misplaced mine."

"Come on in, you look like shit, kid. Smell as well. Umm, beer and body odour, nice."

The fifty seven year old cop was two weeks from retirement. He looked formidable still, a tall, former linebacker, who was still a fit and stocky man. He also knew this polite kid could wipe the floor with him in two , maybe three moves. In 2002, he had taken his kids and the Pleasure siblings to self defence class, after AJ got the all clear from the medics. The skinny blond teenager had floored the ex-marine instructor three times with assured ease of his 3rd Dan Karate Black Belt plus 'classified' dirty tricks.

"Your mom is at your house in Malibu. Your dad is playing hide and seek with the TV crews here. I also need to take you in to get your missing persons status revoked. ". The older man smiled as he was relived that their worse fears were unjustified. "Everyone was sure you'd done something really stupid, not your normal amount of stupid. Have you been drinking and self medicating. It's OK, personal use; I'm not going to bust you. You look like you're back not eating."

The troubled young man paused by the phone in the hall. "I might ring Rachel as well." That was admitting to not being fine without any unpleasant details. "Best if she meets us at your office."

"Sure kid, now ring your mom and dad. Try and grovel for forgiveness."

As a parent he had his own problems to bear, Holly was beginning to get in her stride, moving out from under her brother's shadow. Having just signed a distribution deal for her documentary. She was meant to directing the next band video. Only it was obvious AJ was not coping.

"Dad, it's me, Alex."

"I'm at the Degrassi's. I tried to come home but you had unwelcome guests."

"I'm fine, honest. I have to phone mum now. See you in a bit"

Alex then phoned his mother, Knowing this conversation was not going to be a walk in the park, Edward just happy to know he was living, breathing and somewhere safe. Liz would root out the truth that he was barely functioning.

Not exactly grovelling but he came clean "Hi mum, I may need a bit of help getting my shit together."


	9. Chapter 9

In Seattle, at the headquarters of Lost&Alone Records, Daisy Millward stood to give her statement to the awaiting press. "This morning AJ arrived back home, worse for wear, and was checked into hospital for psychiatric assessment. He has borderline identity disorder and has a history of self harm issues including anorexia and self medication. He is not well and his parents have asked that you allow AJ time to heal after his episode and to allow them privacy at this difficult time."

Matt Remmer was an old friend of Edward Pleasure, working as a freelance music journalist. The statement was bland and innocuous, but the assessment in a psychiatric hospital meant his adopted son was suicidal or psychotic. Edward had written a detailed piece in 2003 about the affect of the San Mateo High Shooting on both Sabina and Alex, the affects of the trauma still being felt eight years later. "Hi, Matt Remmer, Alex had an episode in 2002, is this one as serious?"

Daisy smiled that someone had done their homework. "Alex had a full breakdown then. This time it wasn't as abrupt, but he is very ill and like last time be treated with a combination of therapy and mood stabilizers."

…

"Why the long face, grumpy?"

"I really love you too, Sabina." Alex said in a sickly sweet voice with an obviously fake smile, full of teeth.

"Look, Mr. Sarcastic. I'm breaking you out of here. Honestly, you do look better than you did two weeks ago."

Alex shrugged as he walked out of the locked ward. "I thought Mum was coming to the shoot today?"

"Got called in for a casting thing. Some Hollywood big shot producer who can't or won't reschedule. Dad's editing his latest masterpiece, which had a deadline three weeks ago. His editor is in meltdown. So,I stepped in, which means we get to go to Starbucks first and get to pick the drink with the best combination of sugar and caffeine," Sabina was on a two month sabbatical from work as she was committed to full family support for her ill brother, and her parent's freelance work meant she could cover when they could not get out of their commitments.

Sabina made no comment about the dreadful hair, not styled and unkempt, nor the fact her brother was wearing hospital issue patient scrubs. The only clothing he had worn since admission. His medication regime was finally working and this trip out would mean a change from in to out patient. The tour was a likelihood rather than a slim possibility. Control issues were there, but manageable.

Alex picked not one but two venti iced caramel macchiatos, while Sabina settled on a Grande Chai Latte. The shoot was in San Mateo, including the guitar store, the mall, the first place the band had played live and the corner of suburbia where three of them had been teenagers and Cassian a frequent visitor.

In the parking lot of the Smoking Gun Bar, there were trailers and it was already a hub of activity at 8AM.

Ike was the first to spot Sabina and AJ arrive and went straight over to hug them both. A cheer went up from the small group of spectators, Alex gave them a wave and a thumbs up before moving into the wardrobe and make-up trailer.

Cassian was sat getting his hair straightened, but got up to hug Alex like he had not seen him for months, when he had visited the ward yesterday. "Hey, still in scrubs?"

Sabina mock whispered "Good luck getting him to change. He was pissy with me because I took him a change of clothes. He was also upset because mum was meant to be here today."

Cassian smiled and joked "well, Liz is one hot mama."

Ike then sang out "AJ's mom has got it going on."

Alex was distracted by looking through the rack of clothes picked out by the stylist "Sabina's not kidding about me not changing. Safe.. It's safe in hospital, better even than my room. Got me eating properly again, sleeping, my new meds are helping a lot; but its early days. I went home three days ago and I'll be downgraded to an outpatient either tomorrow or the next day." He took a deep breath. "Where are my guitars? You brought them over didn't you, Cass? No one else touched them?"

"I put them on stands by the bar inside with do not touch post-its. Red and black ones with your shitty third hand Marshall amp." Cass knew Alex had paid $50 for the amp and a bad Fender Stratocaster knock off. Now their guitarist would plug in a $5000 guitar into the same amp. "Did you bring your Picardo today?"

"Yeah, it's in the trunk. I'll go get it and leave you to get made pretty."

Rather than warm up inside, Alex sat on the foot plate of his Range Rover and began to play. The crew and spectators got to listen to five sets of practice chords and two complex classical pieces. When he finished there was a round of applause. This video shoot was meant to be fairly straight forward, simple run throughs of the song in the four locations, but the guitarist and lead singer was full of apprehension. Deep regular breaths helped as he put his guitar away, then finished the last of his iced coffee. With no other procrastination, he went inside for his vocal exercises and to play his warm up routine for his two favourite Mansons. Live music rather than playing to a backing track or worst of all miming.

...

Alex knew he was been watched by the band, crew and selected guests. Tonight Luisa was here as a VIP, accompanied by Rob, and two of her school friends. All watching him in the wings, the show about to start. As he approached the stage he could hear the crowd and waves of nausea rolled and he started to heave. A bucket was there waiting as he emptied his stomach. After puking for a third time he rinsed his mouth quickly and strode onto the stage, ready for the first song of the set.

Luisa Sanchez looked at her brother, "did you know he had crippling stage fright?"

"No, but there was a lot about Alex I did not know about. Most stuff I missed or failed to understand. He had an awful childhood, his illness stems from that. I should have kept my insecurities to myself. He won't forgive me. More for allowing Dad free reign to be completely homophobic. Love includes acceptance and tolerance, not bile and hate. If Dad can't accept I'm gay, he cannot say he loves me. All or nothing was Alex drawing a line that you need to accept your partners faults to really love."

The teenager listened to the first two songs, both from the new album. Her brother had not attempted to reconnect with his ex. Even though Alex had been in touch with her. It was more than a typical case of idiot brother's, Rob had walked too easily. Had dad paid for her brothers new apartment in Pacific Palisades? That was highly unlikely, so someone else had bribed Rob to stay away? But who? Alex's parents had been lovely and welcoming tonight. The other members of the band had been cool.

At the end of the show the three girls giggled and took a million selfies with the band at the after show party. Alex decided to clear the air with Rob.

"I can blame myself for derailing our relationship, but your heart wasn't in it and to be truthful I was pressurising you to make a home with me. Thank you for what we had and I really wish it could have been more, but C'est la vie." Alex knew the flame had burned out before he'd returned home.

"Alex, I'd love to give it another try. Want to date again?"

"No…. not right now. I'm still in intensive therapy. I've got a nurse for the duration of the tour. Its a stipulation of the insurance that I'm supervised taking my meds and not fucking myself about. I was controlling my food intake and cutting and you did not notice. Rachel asked four questions and sussed that I was out of control. You only saw what you wanted to see. I think I need a guy to see everything, especially when I'm being an arse." Alex had shut the door on rekindling a very unhealthy relationship. "Friends though. I'll keep in touch. Malibu is not the far from your new pad."

Rob looked at Alex, thinner, paler, but calmer. He had the impression Alex was a chameleon, today he was seeing the real guy for the first time; not a guy trying to be the perfect boyfriend and lover. "Yeah.. see you around, Al. I think I fucked our relationship up as well, by not being open and pretty self-centred. You are beautiful, truly a great guy. I just wish I had been bothered to get to know you and not settle for the surface perfection."

…

June rolled around with a three week hiatus between the now finished American tour and the European leg. Alex was sat in the bathtub in a luxurious bathroom, the apartment owned by Dieter Sprintz. The man himself owned the building with five apartments for guests. No longer just a friend of Jamie, soon to be actual family, as Sabina and Jamie's wedding was in three days. Luckily low key event, with reception at the couples favourite restaurant. Alex had asked the new sound engineer as his date, Karl Sigurdsson had been surprised and more than happy to not just accompany him to the event but pursue a relationship. They were now on their fourth date.

Alex dressed down as they were off for pizza. Karl was tall, a former rower and a beautiful brown haired, blue eyed Dane.

"Come back to my place. Stay the night Karl. Please?"

Liz Pleasure let herself into the apartment and heard her son laughing in the bedroom. She could not help but smile that he was once again his relaxed, happy and open for love. Time would tell if this was the path to a true home that Alex was seeking. Now she had to disturb the young lovers. "Good morning, Alex and Karl. You have fifteen minutes to be dressed for brunch. Bridezilla is expecting you both."

…

Alex had rarely played the game of physical attraction. Not after his maelstrom of confusion over Yassen, where attraction had been mixed with white hot anger, hatred, grief and self loathing. He now observed others and gauged their responses, having sex with Paul and Robert after he was sure they were hot and gasping for a fuck. Karl was beautiful and very masculine, very like his attraction to that Russian assassin. Alex pondered this precipice, wether to keep this thing to a purely physical coupling or dare to build something more.

It was 5am and he had not slept. After three orgasms and he should have been dead to the world like the sleeping behemoth next to him. Yet he was unsettled by the fact he wanted to stay in this moment in the first rush of lust, without the reality of busy lives or his questionable sanity fucking everything up.

He got up to sit on the balcony of his luxury suite and watch the sky lightening before dawn. Rather than disturb his exhausted lover, he would venture to the gym to run and weight train before his normal post show breakfast at 10am. He had an ominous feeling in his gut, but could think of no reason for it. Then he noted an early morning visitor, stood half hidden in the garden; a girl of about seventeen, who had been an almost constant shadow since Berlin. She looked cold and miserable, Alex went inside and rang down to reception for someone to take the die hard fan a cup of coffee and some donuts. Twice he had tried to talk to her, but she had been shy to the extreme, tongue tied and bashful. She had obviously been there for hours and was shivering in a tour sweatshirt and short skirt.

…..

At 1:30 Alex could hear Karl's stomach rumbling. "Hungry, darling?"

With a sheepish smile, the tall Dane nodded. Large amounts of calories were burnt by both band and crew during a show, which consisted of long days of sound checks, rehearsals, performance and wind down. Their next show not for four days allowing them respite before moving on to Kiev.

The bar in the old town offered a mix of Polish and more international food. Beer, cola, pizza and sandwiches were ordered. Alex knew life for the moment was on the road. "In October, after our last concert in Wellington, do you fancy going on holiday? The skiing on the South Island is meant to be good. Then maybe a week in Hawaii?"

"That sounds superb. I'm not a brilliant skier, better at cross country than downhill. Do you like Winter Sports?"

Alex smiled and knew he wanted Karl to integrate fully with his lifestyle. "If we go skiing Cass and his entourage will come as well. He prefers spectating and partying, I'm quite good on both skis, skates and board. Downhill and freestyle. I also like surfing, hence Hawaii."

Karl then pressed his case for something more. "Then Copenhagen or LA?" He looked closely at his lover, and hoped he was reading the situation right. "We can split time between our homes or can you suggest something else. London is a sort of compromise?"

"Not London. It would be better to split time between our homes. Your suggestion sounds ideal. What's your place like? I don't travel light anymore, considering I need my guitars."

"Two bedroom apartment in the University District. Cosy, very stylish, I am very much attached to it. What about your house by the Pacific Ocean?"

"My parents now live in the main house. I moved into the guest house. Its also two bedroom with a large living space. I would buy some art to decorate the walls. At the moment I own a few pieces by Holly and my non-tour guitars." Alex liked the smaller house, still generously proportioned rooms and big walk in wardrobe for his ever growing collection of clothes and shoes. Being the child of Liz Pleasure, he had finally gotten the shopping bug and loved clothes, costumes and shoes; even if his fall back was t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. He held up his glass of Coke, "To us, now I must change my status to in a relationship."


	10. Chapter 10

If experience had taught Alex anything, it was that if he grasped for happiness or wanted something really badly it was bound to go pear shaped pretty quick. Both men looking forward to being a couple, but as he walked hand in hand with his boyfriend in the sunshine, Alex was on high alert. A hard edge of anxiety could possibly be a precursor of his personality disorder and not any actual threat. He was being stupid and should just relax. They were strolling back to the hotel for a quickie before dinner and to pack as tomorrow they were all heading east to the Ukraine.

Alex at first assumed the girl moving towards them was just seeking a selfie or an autograph, having got over her earlier shyness. She rushed forward, but he moved to push Karl out of the way when he saw the glint of polished metal.

He was more intent on protecting his lover than disarming the assailant, which had him acting as a human shield. Stupid really when at this distance a single bullet could kill them both. As momentum swung him around he felt the sharp agony of a knife slicing through his lower back on his lower left hand side. He gasped and pitched forward. No life saving round house kicks today just a gasped "Oh fuck! Run!"

As the sharp agony faded, Alex assessed he was down and in no position to get up as the knife was still stuck in him. He spoke in firm commands in German to the girl from Berlin, his number one fan, who had started to panic. "You have to put pressure on either side of the wound. Do not remove the knife. Leave it where it is, Ok. Use your sweatshirt as a bandage, I promise I'll get you a new one."

She pulled off the garment, which had been wrapped around her waist and did as she was told, no longer shrieking, but hiccuping; tears rolling down her face.

"That's it, nice and firm. Help will be on its way." The prone man lying on his side was sure Karl would have alerted the authorities, paramedics and police would be on their way. "Just a scratch, I'll be fine." Sure the injury was not life threatening as he was conscious and fully lucid.

Maria Schenck then found her voice "I did not want to hurt you, AJ. I just wanted to scare that man away. You need a proper girlfriend to look after you. Not him."

He had a crazy jealous homophobic fan keeping him alive and that was almost hilarious after he dumped Robert over his less than accepting father. He kept talking needing to keep the connection, to stay alive. "What's your name? Gotta know what my best girl's called. You never told me in Berlin or Darmstadt when we talked."

"Maria." She sobbed out.

"Ok Maria. You are my best friend in the whole wide world right now because my life is in your hands. You made a mistake with the knife I know. I'm really grateful that you're doing everything in your power to help me now. We're friends and we just had a misunderstanding."

….

Kurt ran to the main square and flagged down a police patrol, a passing student acting as translator. A tourist attacked, the officer followed the Dane and saw a young woman weeping over the man who had been wounded, her hands pressing her sweatshirt around the knife still protruding from the man's back and blood splattered on the pavement.

The cop could see the girl was doing her best to help. A small crowd had gathered, phones and cameras out. The student was translating between German and Polish with ease. Units arrived, the crowd pushed back and then paramedics took over. Alex knew Maria would be arrested as Karl had already identified her as the attacker. He did not care at his point as he stopped listening to the medical professionals and murmured "Shit Ian, should have taught me Polish, would have come in handy today." He shivered at the thought of his scumbag uncle. His physiological reaction troubling the paramedics who started to assess their patient for shock.

…

It seemed that once again he had the luck of the devil, as the knife had penetrated four inches, but at a shallow angle through muscle, so had missed his kidney. His bleeding was still an issue and needed minor surgery. Alex opted for local anaesthetic, aiming to be up and about as soon as possible, hopefully without a night in hospital.

The doctor was not buying the American's argument for discharging himself. "You need a transfusion, Mr. Pleasure. You lost at least two units, which needs replacing as you plan to be back to work in two days, your blood pressure is on the low side. We need to wait for lab reports, but the antibiotics should stop any infection. The surgeon has assessed and closed the wound. You have been very lucky, a steeper entry angle would have damaged your kidney"

Alex already had a nice scar on his right hand side from the bullet that had nicked his kidney in 2002, which had required emergency surgery and resulted in only an 85% return of kidney function. He came very close to loosing his good kidney. He had acquiesced to the medical professionals and was an inpatient overnight for observation. Now he had to see the repercussions of one foolish girl fantasying about the guitarist in her favourite band. As he lay in the bed the tour manager was in the corridor having a minor meltdown on his phone. The incident had made the internet within minutes as soon as he had told the police his name, it had spread like wildfire. So, within an hour of arriving at Krakow University Hospital Emergency Room, outside were a gaggle of journalists.

Cassian then walked into the private room with a bag of necessities, dressed like a model and smiling at his friend in bed. "Lucky, Lucky Alex. Brought you clothes, shoes, toiletries. Could not find any pyjamas, but couldn't ask Karl as he was frantic with guilt and had to be sedated." He put the bag on the small bedside cabinet. "Your mom and scary sister have been calling every twenty minutes all afternoon. So while Dave acts as decoy, phone them. Paul also called, but I told him I would call him back. The hospital already issued a statement which stated you're only in overnight for observation and that your injuries, while serious, were not life threatening. So how are you really?"

"Feel like laughing its all so stupid. A fan insanely jealous of Karl tried to stab him and I got in the way. Poor Maria was really upset that she stuck me by accident. Dave already told me Karl was a mess giving his statement to the police. I gave my interview twenty minutes ago. I tried to get the detective to understand Maria probably has a mental illness and she needs treatment not prison. Its a case of there by the grace of God go I. My breakdown at Christmas, I withdrew into myself and wandered off. I could have gone completely paranoid and really done some damage." That was the stuff of his nightmares, becoming Julius.

His friend moved forward to hug him. "Never doubt yourself, Lexie. You are such a good person. Not a killer, not a maniac, nothing like Grief or his bastard clones."

Alex used his friend's phone while the dark haired Californian went to distract the nursing staff with his wit and charm despite the language barrier.

These were calls he could not put off until tomorrow. First he rang Liz's mobile, best to talk to her first as she was the boss. "Mum, I'm fine…. Yeah, sorry but it all happened so fast…. Sore, but shit I was lucky. Sabina is going to tell me off for not running off fast enough. I can't bring myself to blame Maria, she's just in a bad place and needs help. You helped me through worse." Alex sighed, "I'll ring you tomorrow after I get discharged. I really am fine considering. Did it look bad on the news?… Is it crazy there? Oh your staying with Leanora. Love to you and Dad, Bye"

He took a deep breath and rang London. "No, Jamie its me. Cass lent me his phone. Mine is with the nurses…. I've had a transfusion… Yeah, full on vampire; call me Lestat…. Yeah, no fear I'm fine." The phone was then passed to his upset sister. "I'm totally fine, Sabina… No need to come to Poland. I'll be back on the tour bus tomorrow. See you a week on Tuesday, only three shows to do…. Sure, I come and stay with you two. Love you Sab. Do not worry about me, its cool. Caio." He sank back into his pillows on heavy, slightly rough sheets. He definitely would have been more comfortable in his five star hotel suite.

…..

Tired and sore, Alex was watched by the tour medic as he dressed. It was strange not being able to move fully. He would not be throwing himself about on stage any time soon. He had slept fitfully, woken by disturbing dreams, but not full night terrors. "Ready to get out of here. You have got my meds, Kat?"

"Yes, AJ. Painkillers and antibiotics. Both to be taken with meals, so four small meals evenly spaced across the day. You don't drink so thats not a problem. No double espressos, but you are not Cassian or Gray." She helped him into his jacket. "Dave is waiting by the kitchen entrance with a taxi. That way we avoid the paparazzi out front."

Alex sat on the wheelchair. "I feel like I could sleep all the way to Kiev. How far is it?"

"About 10 to 11 hours with breaks. I'm sure Dave can get you on a flight if you're not up to the road trip."

Alex shook his head. "No, I think company is what I need. I really want to make sure Karl is OK. He is travelling on the bus, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he was not brilliant this morning. Really down. I've booked a psychologist in Kiev to talk with everyone. The whole team have been affected. It really shook everyone's sense of trust. I can see it getting tense between the roadies and the upgraded security."

Alex chuckled "Worse for Cass, he likes his liaisons with groupies and has slept with two girls who do actually stalk him."

The bubbly punk nurse with spiky platinum hair laughed "Cassian could charm any girl into his bed. Genuine Lothario. Not bad in the sack though, I give him that"

Alex was not surprised at that revelation. "No he's not bad at all, is he."

"Wow, he seduced you too?" asked Kat.

"More of a teenage fumble, but yeah he's a great kisser and boy can he blow."


	11. Chapter 11

Edward Pleasure clearly remembered his first introduction to the boy who has become a fast friend to Sabina, when she had been a ball girl at Wimbledon. He had taken a keen interest in his daughter's tales of triads, gambling and doping allegations. Shocked by the actuality of a rather young looking fourteen year old with sharp eyes, brilliant wit and no fear. Over the next year that boy had matured fast but also withdrew behind an emotionless mask. The young man broken by events in Egypt had become their son. Events in California caused Alex's breakdown, but he had not been well before that. He controlled his life rigidly, from exercising to the extreme and eating the bare minimum. Fussy did not begin to do justice to Alex's attitude to food then. Edward had at first been dismayed by his son's conversion to vegetarianism two years ago, but he ate a much more varied diet now, freed for negativity when he excluded anything that resembled meat.

As a fellow sufferer, the journalist was well aware of the teenager's almost constant insomnia, which seemed to have abated recently according to Cassian, whom his son confided in and who in turn kept Liz and himself in the loop on all things Alex.

From troubled teen to a successful musician, coping with his mental health issues; clean and sober. Now this senseless attack, Liz had ordered her husband to be a doting father, as he worked freelance and could write just as much copy in Kiev as in LA. Liz was on set, unhappy about contractual obligations to stay and work. Paul Roscoe had provided a private jet from New York, a true luxury. He had written for eleven hours straight with constant top ups of excellent coffee and delicious sandwiches and snacks. The billionaire acting as concerned friend, still slightly estranged from his once close friendship with Alex. Becoming ex lovers had cooled the BFF's to mere occasional friends. Edward read the signs that Paul regretted his decision to walk and the fact Alex had taken his leaving as the end, full stop, forget it. Alex had cleaned himself up, taken his health management plan seriously, but his cleaning house had included reassessing his love life. The new man, Karl, was older, at 34, a bit on the shy side and was obviously devoted to Alex. With Alex changing his private account profile to being in a relationship yesterday, he too was serious about them as long term. The relationship happening due to smart matchmaking on Cassian's part as the sound engineer had been nursing a long term crush on AJ since their last world tour. Alex himself had been oblivious. It might have saved a lot of grief all around if the Robert situation had never happened.

Liz and he had expected bumps along the road with their adopted son. He had been amazing driving his energy into music and using his talents to wrk through the demons from his past. Open and unafraid, Alex had proved to be brave and resourceful in his own treatment plan to date. As a father knowing the burdens this ex-child soldier carried, Edward hoped this incident did not knock Alex for six.

….

Cassian looked at the perfectly serene picture AJ made asleep in the bus, clutching the plushie, his very own mini Matt Bellamy complete with red felt hair and guitar. The onlooker smiled and took a snap and then caught Alex murmuring in his sleep. "My tea definitely needs a slice of cake, much too wet on its own." That was funny that their injured guitarist was dreaming of afternoon tea, a very English Sunday treat in the Pleasure household. He had expected his friend to have nightmares, but it had sounded like he had rationalised the whole experience as a stupid accident, when everyone else had freaked out at the senseless random act of violence. Karl was sat at the front of the bus, brooding and trying to understand how a perfect afternoon yesterday had been completely ruined. The normal smiling Dane was in a major grump.

The bass player showed his picture to his band mates, who were sat reading the overreaction to the stabbing in the press. "Ahh, how cute!" exclaimed Ike. "Upload it on the band page, cause AJ looks adorable."

So the photo was sent to the team in San Francisco for full update on social media.

…..

At 2pm after three hours rest, a bleary, stiff and sore AJ came and sat outside as the drivers changed over at their designated rest break. Lunch was delivered and would be eaten on the bus. Karl sat beside his lover and was unsure what to say.

Alex broke the ice as this incident was no where near as awful as those that blighted his teenage years. "It's been unreal. I had hoped I'd never play victim again, I'm just thankful you were unharmed. You have to work through the aftermath though. There will be a therapist on call when we get to Kiev. Talking it through helps, you can do without PTSD."

The dane noted the lost look the crossed Alex's tired face. Horrors of school had affected the entire band.

After his brief pause, the guitarist continued, keeping positive, "Group sessions might be an idea over the next week. Took me a while to get that bottling everything up is stupid and only makes it worse in the end. Ike, Cass and Gray have all had to deal with shit before. Me, a mountain, no a whole continent of shit. I'm already rationalising this as bloody lucky that she was not after killing us both, like happened at High School. She did succeed in frightening you. Not to run away completely, I hope. You and me, I think we're compatible." Alex smiled ruefully at his lover. He was wondering if this might be too much for the quiet and shy tour technician.

The 6'3" Dane held his lover's hand in reassurance, relaxed and smiled, knowing that they would work through this horror. "Dave was such a support yesterday, he went with me to give my statement. Then everyone at the hotel was brilliant, they packed for both of us. I could not, being back in our room alone upset me so and the doctor made me rest because I was very shaken." He could get what a great friend Cassian was to Alex as the best friend had immediately dropped everything to act as intermediary with the band, hospital and Alex's family and friends. The American so easy going, very promiscuous and always partying, but never to excess; had rallied around to keep everything on track for the tour. "You will need to rest. Did you not sleep at all in hospital?"

"Fitfully, got woken every hour or so when they check your vitals. I think I'll have another nap after lunch. By the way I am starved."

…..

Alex at six was checking his phone and noted the photo posted earlier had a lot of hits on the band's Instagram and twitter pages. Someone, he guessed Ike, must have taken it. That doll had decorated his tour bus bunk for two world tours and was a prized gift from Loretta, who worked as Holly's assistant. He loved the mini Manson guitar, shiny suit and the block felt hair. He had never dared to ask if she made mini AJ's as well. His mom had posted a note about him being beautiful when he slept deeply. It proved to everyone he was OK, back on track working as travel was work related.

It brought into contrast the reason Alex liked Muse, who had been one of Jack's favourite bands. She had sung along badly to their first album, had been to their gigs and Alex had been an outsider to her fanaticism. When she had arrived in Australia, she was had brought Origin of Symmetry and Alex had listened to and grown to love. Christmas that year, without Ian to object to unhealthy influences, Alex had been given his own copy along with a band t-shirt. She had promised to take Alex to a gig. A promise she never planned to keep. After her death Alex had found out she had already arranged with the Pleasures to take over Alex's guardianship. Like most things in his life, even the good and joyous were tainted with pain in the bittersweet mix that was his reality.

….

As the bus pulled into the hotel at just before 11pm. Alex was helped down the steps and was glad of the promise of guaranteed comfort. Supported by his boyfriend he saw his father and broke down in tears. He'd have been fine if they had carried on as normal, kept working and only reflected when he got to London. Here, the presence of Edward meant he could not avoid or deny that he had been scared out of his wits when confronted with his own fragile mortality. On the forecourt of the hotel, the injured guitarist burst in tears and stumbled forward to hug his dad; not caring that the reunion was recorded not just by the tour photographer but a small crowd of press.

….

Alex woke with a start, sitting straight up with a gasp as pain lanced up his left hand side from the sudden movement. He was alone in bed. Karl would have left early to start the set up for tonight's concert.

"You OK in there, Alex?" queried Edward from the main room of the suite. After a moment the man hobbled to the bedroom door to look in on his son.

"Shit, I need painkillers. Strong ones. Super strong ones." Alex ground out through gritted teeth, it had been over nine hours since his last dose and the throb of pain made Alex wonder if he had bust his stitches during his vivid nightmare of Alexei Sarov killing himself. Daddy issues indeed.

Edward picked up the phone and said "Yes, he's awake now you can come up." The second phone call was to reception "Please send up breakfast." The fifty year old man with thinning grey hair, glasses and nice tan then turned to the man in the bed "Kat's on her way up, she will assess you for meds and check your wound and redress it. She thought it better you sleep rather than wake you any earlier."

"Did you have breakfast with Karl?" Alex noted his father shook his head. "What time is it anyway?"

"9:25, sunny and fine. You can rest up until your sound check at 6. On stage at 9. Back here no later than 11:15. Those are strict orders, no partying, you are on strict bed rest. Kat will be your full time nurse today and I'm being hard line dad. Don't laugh, I'm under orders from Liz and Sabina."

The invalid wheezed rather than laughed. Liz was the boss, even on the other side of the world Alex knew better than to disrespect his mother.

Edward then sat on the bed, he was tired himself as he had been wide awake at 5 and had filled the intervening hours with work. "Lie down again, trouble. Breakfast in bed for both of us today. Ordered a selection all vegetarian. No pineapple or passion fruit. I can get you a cup of tea now though. I brought some earl grey and darjeeling teabags with me."

Alex sank back down onto the pillows and requested "Cup of tea, dad. Thanks."

…..

The adrenalin high from performing crashed like a wave after Alex stood on the wings and let out a big breath. He could hear cheers as Gray stated they were the best audience ever. His feet were felt like they made of lead. He could not move forward. His head filled with cotton wool and he could no longer focus on either Kat or Edward who were waiting for him. "Dad? I feel really funny." With that he slumped to the floor as his legs gave way in a dead faint.

…..

Alex came to and knew he was back in his hotel room, lying on soft bed. Someone had undressed him.

"It was too much Dave." Kat said firmly. "Fuck the insurers. He's exhausted. Push anyone hard like that and they break. AJ's needs need more consideration he's not OK emotionally and he lost a lot of blood."

Edward then said sharply "Take your argument outside, Karl and I will look after Alex. Now scoot."

Alex lay still until the suite was quiet. He got up and went to see if there was any food. He had collapsed due to low blood sugar due to puking before the performance. In the main room, Karl was stood by the window, looking pensive out across to the Presidential Palace.

"Any food, dad?"

"Sit down before you fall down again. Sandwiches, crisps and salad. Also cake and fruit. I'll get you a cola. You tuck in."

Alex sat and was joined by his father and boyfriend for his late supper.

Edward picked at his sandwich. "Did you know the insurers were being difficult about your previous medical history?"

"Yeah, whole reason Kat's here. Even, if she lodges a formal complaint on my behalf, nothing will change. I can hack being on restriction, dad. In fact, I quite like the fact I am as it gives me a good excuse to not do publicity. Cass and Gray get that dubious honour, although I will have to do an interview about my number one fan. Is it nepotism if you do it?"


	12. Chapter 12

Moscow was as Alex remembered it; a blur of rooms interspaced by car journeys with only occasional flashes of onion domes. Their two open air concerts were sold out, the band suddenly more commercial because of the recent wider media profile on all American and European news channels. First was a live TV performance, then AJ took his now normal position as interviewee as he spoke six languages, with most shows surprised by his easy fluency. He was only slightly hesitant in Italian and Russian. In Poland, The Czech Republic, Slovakia and Romania, Cassian and Gray had forced back up front talking through a translator. Alex was felt slightly self conscious speaking Russian as it was always a stark reminder of General Sarov and to a lesser extent Yassen. He spoke this language with an unmistakable American accent as it had been learned from tapes and listening to Russian Radio after his retirement from active duty. Now, learning Danish was top of his to do list.

The presenter on Channel One was a tall, very skinny blond, who spent her time off camera flirting and touching the famous guitarist. At the end of the interview she suddenly stated in excellent English "so, you are not fully homosexual, you at least flirt back. Off the record, have you had any relationships with women?"

He almost rolled his eyes at that question. "Like all things it's complicated, more of a lifestyle choice on my part. I had an unhappy childhood, no love and emotionally neglected. At seventeen I decided to stick two fingers up at my uncle's life plan for me, which was to be completely heterosexual, get a first from Cambridge university and be employment either in the Foreign Office or at the Bank where he worked and being as boring as humanely possible. So, I have chosen relationships with men, which is definitely not what he had in mind and making my living as a Rock musician." Alex was not into casual sex, clubbing or even dating per say. He had slept with women, but wife and kids was not part of his game plan. He smiled at he slightly shocked expression on the woman's face.

As he packed his guitars away, he read a text from Dimitry Ivanov 'Need a favour. Will pick you up at the studio in 5 minutes. Xx'

"Hey Cass, have you got a text from Dima?" Asked Alex of his best friend.

"No, spoke to him yesterday, said he could join us for dinner on Sunday. Busy, busy, busy as always."

"Right, I need to rain check our group dinner, give my apologies to everyone. Dimitry is obviously up to something spooky."

His dearest friend read the text. "You should not go if you don't feel up to stupid games."

"I can handle Dima, I bet he just wants to prove his friend is a rock star, nothing to do with my teenage misadventures." Alex had noticed the bored shadows, FSB agents keeping an eye on a former member of the opposition at best, but still a potential threat to national security. His past as teen MI6 protege would forever mean he was on security alert status, as the Australians had made quite clear. He took a deep breath and slipped back into operations mode as play time in the great game resumed.

Dimitry Ivanov was being cheeky and calling in a massive favour, but cheating was sort of expected in his line of business and he was sure Alex would be up for putting one over a bunch of spooks. He was a man who was making a name for himself as noticing details and following his gut on inconsistencies and as a result had outed two colleagues as deep cover agents, one for the Chinese and one for the Iranians. Both men shot as traitors. The only child of General Ivanov was becoming both feared and respected. Blazing a trail as a conscientious and zealous patriot, like his father. By forty, his plan was to be deputy department head. There was an interdepartmental contest of marksmanship, in his office his small team did the hours to keep their firearms proficiency but none were exceptional, more skilled at computer hacking and sifting through paper trails. Alex was a trained assassin, a marksman who passed SCORPIAs rigorous training, on par with the best Spetsnaz snipers.

As Alex sat in the passenger seat of the BMW coupe and pondered his friend's request. "So, Uncle Andrei has organised a tournament. What's the prize?"

"Its a tacky trophy; but hang on, since when is General Aranovsky your Uncle Andrei?"

"Since the Murmansk incident, he was only a Colonel then. He interviewed me in hospital. I was a bit of a basket case after 'daddy' killed himself. He was the only spook to actually treat me as an abused kid. He was wonderful, but the fall out from a near ecological catastrophe and coup d'état meant his hands were tied. He could not bring any weight to his absolute disgust over the actions of his counterparts in London and Washington. I had saved Russia, but I should never have been forced into that position. The power vacuum left by Kiriyenko's sudden departure, really played against the fact I saved the day, which was dealt with by the offer of a stupid medal and to promise never to speak of those events with anyone. I said no thanks to both and went home, with the tacit understanding MI6 would leave me alone. That went to shit almost immediately, when I crossed paths with Yassen in Nice." Alex shrugged at his connections to very dangerous people, at least Andrei Aranovsky and Joe Byrne were sort of in his corner as mostly forgotten and best left to his own devices. "We met up in Paris for dinner eighteen months ago. I call him Uncle Andrei and he calls me Aleksandr Alexeyevich."

"After Sarov. That's dark and shitty, in fact really shitty." The Russian stole a quick look of concern at his passenger, who had a rueful smile on his face.

"Yeah, but to get to the top you either are a fucking blank faced psycho, like Blunt, or have a really black sense of humour. Always go for the later. If you turn into a Blunt clone and start abusing all in your pursuit of national security, expect no quarter from any of your fellow alumni. Especially Joe who already views you as the ultimate class suck up. Remember, we are a bunch of bad boy misfits."

Dima laughed "No, overachievers. Look at you and Cassian; rock stars." The driver then became sad and serious, when he crossed over into personal relationships. "I still do not get why Paul dropped you. Love should not be dismissed so easily, he will find it hard to attain as suitable a match. I for one think he's deluded in his bid for heterosexuality. I can't talk though; I go on occasional dates, but trust is so hard. How did you connect with your sound engineer? Cassian said you were moving in together."

Alex pondered the fact how good it was with Karl. "He's been through the foster system himself; survived failed placements, some which were abusive, and still achieved his dreams. Well, sort of; he wanted to be in a band, his guitar skills are OK, but getting on stage makes my stage fright seem minor. He wants to work in a studio or do A&R, when being on the road gets too much. So, we connect on enough things to get each other. Its been three months of great sex to get to the in a relationship point. It takes time, not just a couple of dates. I was horny and well that helps. You're not celibate? You do have sex?"

"Yeah, one night stands like Cassian. Mostly fellow officers who don't want personal entanglements or to my shame, those who are neglected by their husbands."

Alex laughed at the confession. "See, bad boy at heart. You've still got it. Don't change, Dima."

….

At an indoor firing range in the suburbs of Moscow, ten agents making up the five other two-man teams stood and watched the blond stranger dressed in designer jeans, distressed t-shirt, leather jacket and top of the range Nike trainers be greeted warmly by the Head of Directorate 2. They overheard the "Uncle Andrei" and "Aleksandr Alexeyevich" exchange and wondered who Dimitry Ivanov's old school friend was. He was not an active FSB agent known to any there.

The whispers of speculation started. "Hey, Vlad, you were at Suvonov with Ivanov. Who's the other guy?"

"No idea, but he did not attend school in Ekaterinburg. Ivanov was at some school in the Alps before he transferred, maybe the blond attended that place."

Pyotr Lukov shrugged "his Russian is fluent but he has a strong American accent. Can you think of any Alexei who could be this guy's father?"

The marshal smiled at the gossip mill. "Rumours in 2001 were General Alexei Sarov died after returning to Murmansk with his bastard son. This Aleksandr could be Sarov's son, who would have grown up in exile in Cuba. Maybe his mother was Cuban, look at his brown eyes. Its a possibility. Dressed like a westerner. He could be an undercover agent in America? Best not speculate too much, as you might get you arrested by Ivanov like Kolyanov and Titov."

The marshal had seen the late Vladimir Sarov shoot, the teenager had been a natural sniper; but this Alex was better. Whoever had taught him had not been for targets, his breathing and demeanour was expected, but he could see the tell tale signs of instinctual firing. A thing not taught in Russian Sniper or Special Forces Training. A specialism of Mossad and the former terrorist spy and assassin school run by SCORPIA. The firearms training specialist then connected this was the teen agent who brought that criminal leviathan to its knees in 2001. Andrei's little nephew was the most dangerous man in the room.

…

Alex arrived back to his hotel room bussing from the completion. He had thoroughly enjoyed his time with Dima, who was no slouch with a pistol himself. The ex-MI6 spy had given his friend pointers to improve his accuracy and focus.

…..

At 10:25PM, Edward Pleasure read the text on his phone that General Aranovsky was in the hotel bar and requested his company for a drink. He went downstairs with the excuse to his wife that he wanted a nightcap. The bar had one occupant, not even a barman to serve. On the bar were two glasses and a bottle of Glenmorangie whisky, not vodka.

The Russian poured two generous measures of the amber liquid "Mr. Pleasure, I must toast you for your sterling skills looking after, supporting and loving Alex. That young man has fought so hard to move on from those dark days in 2002. To you, your wife and daughter."

The journalist took a sip, savouring the smokey aroma. "I have to thank you for your help securing his adoption. Without your files I would never have outmanoeuvred Mrs. Jones and been able to blackmail Joe Byrne into compliance."

Both men then drained their glasses.

"I can understand why you have not put forward your book for publication. However, your manuscript gives the impression of closure during the Cairo situation, because SCORPIA did have their revenge. MI6 will not out Alex; not after their agents here report his close connections with myself and our rising star in intelligence, Dimitry Ivanov. Not to mention the two billionaires with connections to Alex. Paul Roscoe is a dangerous man, Alex has remained his friend. Both proving love is freedom to move on."

Edward poured two more generous measures. "It was love on Alex's part, sure. Not an emotion that Paul Roscoe is familiar with except for himself and his drive to sate his carnal desires. No, I believe Mr. Roscoe will marry for political or economic reasons. Neither love, nor even physical attraction, will have anything to do with it."


	13. Chapter 13

It was early, very early when Karl woke alone in bed. He ran his hand through his brown hair and wondered at what time his lover had woken, before he got up and went to the bathroom. He walked into the main room of the suite naked, sure there would be no unexpected guests at this early hour; to see Alex sat fingering notes and chords on the fretboard of his guitar, sheets of paper covered in notes in front of him. "Have you been writing all night?"

"I had a nightmare and woke up at 2:30. Bad enough that I wrote it down in my journal and then the form and lyrics for a song were there. I'll play it to you, its called Mirror." Alex had tried to write about Julius in the past and nothing had done the horror of those encounters justice. The man with the mirror of his face, who killed Jack, was not him. Grief was possibly the most twisted individual he had met in a bunch that included Razim, Rothman and Blunt. He barely whispered the words over simple chords, no embellishments and no distractions from the raw pain.

Alex stopped, his guitar cast aside on the floor and he sobbed. He broke down and Karl was hugging him, stroking his hair reassuring him he was fine, safe and loved.

….

Control issues had not asserted themselves after Cairo, they had been in the background as Alex grew up. As a kid, what he ate and his activities had been controlled to a large part by Ian Rider. Into the mix had come Jack, whose failures as a cook had also warped Alex's sense of normal. The killer had been operations, when activities he had loved and food he had craved became tainted with horror and pain. At fourteen, if you had suggested to Alex that he would be a strict vegetarian in ten years he would have laughed in your face. At fifteen, he thought of slabs of meat turned his stomach, which had started with him restricting his diet and in turn morphed into his issues with food, which became one thing he could control when everything from school to home and holidays made him feel as powerless as the many occasions he had been a prisoner. Sleep deprivation was the mix of out of control adrenaline during fight and/or flight situations and the resulting night terrors. His worst period of insomnia had seen him catnap after Kenya, as sleep became a thing he dreaded.

Alex was back in control of his emotions but he had to get real and he had texted Roberta, his therapist, for a chat as he called his sessions; which were now conducted via FaceTime from all over the world. No avoidance or denial when confronting this woman who knew all the gory details of his past.

"So, Alex; this is the call I have been waiting for. You have texted me twice to ensure your attacker got fair treatment, but with no thought to the repercussions to your own health and well being. So, what ails you, knucklehead?"

"Knucklehead is right on the button. Its not about Maria, hell I totally get where she was coming from and that it was never an issue really. I… I did something rash in reflection, but I enjoyed it at the time. Dimitry invited me to a shooting competition, which we won. It was the first time I've handled a gun since Cairo… since I killed Julius. It was just targets, but I dreamt of that bastard cunt last night and then confronted head on my self image issues. The man in the mirror is a killer."

…..

Alex read through the article Edward wanted to submit for publication. "I take it our legal team has already picked over this?"

"Yes, all approved by both your record company and your management. What's bothering you?"

"I had a bad night. These words sound like your writing about a different man to the one that talked things over with Roberta this morning. She talked to Kat and the security team are shadowing me, as I'm on suicide watch at the moment. I need to tell Mum this and I'm a fucking coward. All that shit at Christmas and I'm still walking on egg shells. I get my life going in the right direction with Karl and my past makes everything shit, Dad. I … I guess maybe the tour was not feasible after all. How can a mere 18 months of my life taint everything, my music, my performance, my private life, even my sexuality? Your article is white wash, Mr. Prize Winning Journalist. You should really be writing that I'm a fucked in the head arse who can't get past the fact he's the biggest loser in the universe. Survivor, no I'm barely holding it together"

Edward knew from Alex's body language that it was not hugs and reassurance he needed; but either a diversion or a bit of hard parenting. He was also well aware of what Alex was skirting around and not actually talking about. "Come on Alex. You need a family day I can tell. Be prepared for culture and retail therapy in equal measure. Liz, as always, needs the men in her life to be in her thrall. So, first a visit to Memorial Museum of Cosmonautics and all hail Yuri Gagarin. Our tour bus it very enthusiastic guide will be here in 10." The journalist could see the shadow of shame and fear retreat as Alex chose to move on and not dwell on the nightmare that had rattled him to the core.

…..

Alex looked up at the bright yellow apartment block, where Karl had lived for four years. The guitarist had a suitcase, two guitars and box of essentials, which included a laptop, hard drive and sound system. He could not manage all his stuff in one trip, but before getting his phone out to make his call for much needed help , he paused. Three days since they parted company, as Alex had stopped off in Malibu to rationalise his belongings and Karl had travelled direct from Hawaii home. The guitarist rubbed his hands on his trousers after a nerve racking taxi drive from the airport going over the million reasons Karl would have for moving in together being a bad idea.

He pulled out his phone and Karl picked up after two rings. "Hi, I'm downstairs with the bare minimum of stuff, which is way too much to carry myself." Alex smiled as the man reassure him was on his way down to the street.

It was a two bedroomed stylish, typically European space with pale walls, tall ceilings and large windows providing good light on the third floor of five. Alex had carried up his two guitars, while Karl had manhandled the box and would go back down for the suitcase left in the hall. The furnishings were functional, as he had expected, as the apartment rented out to tourists when Karl was away. Kitchen open onto the living/dining area, small bathroom, two small bedrooms. No closets, no piano and no space for guitar stands without a rearrangement of the furniture. No actual guitar stands, items which were moved to the top of Alex's must buy list, as in tomorrow.

"Mrs. Kristiansen has already noted you moving in. Expect a visit in two minutes. She lives in Apartment 1A by the front door. She speaks English so don't worry."

Alex wondered on who else had shared this space. Karl then answered this question "I'm very private. My last boyfriend only came over to fuck, never stayed the night or socialised with my friends. We share the same friends mostly. You'll get to meet the guys from the rowing club on Saturday. That will be interesting as they are a bunch of uncultured animals. Its a BBQ as well, meat, meat and more meat. Not your thing at all." The tall man then smiled "I'm cool with the no meat thing, I will keep my much needed sausage and ham in sealed boxes in the fridge. No cross contamination, promise."

With a light laugh Alex relaxed, "I did used to eat meat… mostly stuff you could not tell was animal, though. Burgers and hot dogs. Sabina still has not forgiven me for rejecting her favourite of meat supreme pizzas. I'm still surprised that was not served at her wedding." Alex had just pulled off the pepperoni and ham and eaten the deconstructed less offensive remains. With that thought there was a knock on the door and Alex's new life as Karl's live in boyfriend started.

…

He had meant just to buy two guitar hooks for the side of the wardrobe in the bedroom, not to spent 70,000 K on a keyboard with stand, new guitar and an amp. Oops indeed. He had also got details of nearby rehearsal space so he could play without disturbing the neighbours. His phone rang, Cassian had obviously seen his post about his new baby and other purchases.

"WTF, what happened to minimal living? A compact inner city apartment can't handle you filling it with stuff, man. That new amp rocks though."

"It really does. The guitar is amazing though, sounds so different from my other babies. Never played a Ruokanga before but this is a custom with one pervious owner. Tell you if I had had this built for me it would never leave my collection. Not for concerts just for me this one."

Alex enjoyed his brief chat, he knew next week Cassian would be in Denmark to check out his friend's new home and to discuss recording, which would be sooner rather than later as the band had written enough songs for their next album during the Asia leg of the tour. Mirror had spurred all f them to write songs about deep, dark personal secrets. Even family man Ike with his wife ready to pop out twins, had penned two songs over his past and confronting his own fears over failing as a father.

Two blocks from the apartment, Alex passed a gallery and a bold abstract oil painting graced the front of a gallery. Bold strokes of white, grey and blue of a stormy sea, and the guitarist wanted to view all that was on sale inside. Those cheap Ikea prints would have a bit of real class to share wall space. Maybe some vintage posters as well crossed Alex's mind.

…..

Karl looked at the five foot canvas that was now decorating his wall. He knew enough about art that this piece had cost more than he earned in two years. Alex had casually stated that they had liked that similar painting in Auckland. He had, this was so his taste in art. Alex then broke the news of his other purchases being delivered tomorrow. "There is a bit of space in your entrance hall to hang one or two guitars and the keyboard can be stored behind the sofa. I play… not brilliantly, Grade 7 never got Grade 8… might take some lessons… opera and piano. Hell, I need to find a gym because I refuse to run outside in winter. I do not understand how you could race boats in filthy European weather." Alex was stood with a cup of tea admiring his purchase. "The gallery owner was lovely, she drove it over and helped hang it." Alex did not add that he had bought another abstract seascape which was being shipped to California to grace his home. "Jamie liked it, I got his approval before giving him a heart attack over my Amex bill."

Karl got that when you earned millions, your hard earned cash needed to be invested in holding companies, stocks, trusts and bonds; all things Alex was not interested in, but that he trusted his brother-in-law to handle his money. "I have a few things to sort out tomorrow, a possible tour next year, it'll be a video conference about two-ish. Can you pick up some groceries, I have a sort of list started."

"Welcome to domesticity, I'm used to shopping with Liz. Edward is totally useless, overspending and never sticking to meal plan lists." Alex had hated the fact that in New York, a Roscoe Industries employee had done that. Even in Malibu, Alex had striven to keep his feet on the ground and not succumb to any diva tendancies. God forbid how Liz would have reacted to employing some young yes-person to perform menial tasks. At home he did his own laundry, cooked meals and only farmed out cleaning and gardening. He had no interest in plants or mowing the lawn. "Just point me to the best place for organic and farm produce."

"You Californian's, just go to Aldi."


	14. Chapter 14

Cassian wondered on the big mistake he had made encouraging the big Dane to ask his friend Alex out on a date. Here he was sat in a small bar in wet and windy Copenhagen, as they watched a sailing event on the stormy grey Baltic. He honestly got sitting on a yacht, accompanied by models drinking champagne in Cannes or San Tropez, but guys in small boats no bigger than a bathtub racing around ball markers. This made no sense.

Alex then whispered to the bemused Californian, "At least you and Karl can drink beer. I have to endure this sober."

"How badly do you want a vodka martini, spy boy?"

"Sell you my sister bad."

"No deal, she has Jamie completely hen pecked, he does not even partake in annoying Paul anymore. Turned him into a complete bore."

"No wonder Paul is so uptight. He gets that its you guys with the prank calls, rude emails and inappropriate gifts. Though we did enjoy the sex toys Tom sent to him. Not that huge dildo though. Paul gave that to his grandmother."

"Jesus! No!"

"Well that confirms you were all in on it; but yeah, Mrs van Gelder thought she had a stalker. Never guessed it was her grandson. God, did we laugh over that." Alex still felt sorry for his ex, as he was forced to conform to high societies strict etiquette and morality, where following your own desires was secondary to tradition and expectation.

The weekend so far had been relaxing and introducing Cass to Karl's extended group of friends. His best friend was staying in their apartment and they planned to record rough demos of five songs at the rehearsal space within walking distance.

The conversation then turned to the demo they recorded yesterday. "I sent the demo of Mirror to Gray, Ike and the guys in Seattle. The Record Company love it. So , it's provisionally pencilled in next month for rehearsal and then straight into recording a single; if you need more time it can wait. Back to LA or at a push London. I was thinking of producing, but that's open to negotiation."

"I like the demo vocals, raw and my voice on the point of breaking." Alex wondered what changes Cass had in mind, as he gave the clever jazz musician a sly look.

"It's a song that gets me as well. One subject both you and I have tried to write about before, but couldn't. A testament for all of us, but especially Paul and Dimitry, who were replaced by Grief clones and lost their parents. Have you sent a copy to the guys?"

"Yeah, Dimitry rung me in tears. Paul wrote me a ten thousand word email. I wish there was away to erase the pain and damage caused by those fuckers. Then again, if I were whole and sane I'd be an operative for MI6 or CIA Blacker than Black Ops, still a Rider. Paul and I would never have been in item, nor would you and I have been friends; nor would Sabina and Jamie be playing happy families. I'm trying to play that, not the family bit, just a couple. It's not a game I'm likely to win, but Karl is worth the bad odds and high stakes."

...

Lana Gregson was never sure what made her boyfriend happy or in fact if he ever felt that emotion. Even in their most intimate moments she could believe she was nothing more than a suitable bit of arm candy and stress relief on Paul's part. After a intense but thankfully short advertising shoot, she had been driven back to Midtown and was in the private elevator to the penthouse. What would she find? Another woman lazing around her space. That had only happened once and her outraged reaction had been met by cool distain from her cheating boyfriend. His saint-like ex had probably laughed such hiccups off.

The vast room was only illuminated by light pollution from Manhattan. Paul Roscoe was sat in the dark listening to his ex sing. That was just about OK as AJ Pleasure had a fantastic voice and his songs were about alienation and pain. She put her bags down and listened to the words. Talking of a stranger in the mirror, the man he should have been. Cold, emotionless and aloof. She equated the words to her boyfriend and that AJ had written a song describing Paul's transformation to fun loving boyfriend to business megastar. She had assumed their break up was amicable over irreconcilable work commitments. Had Paul been a cold unapproachable control freak with his first love? It sure sounded like it.

"Sorry, Lana, I've already eaten. Do you like AJ's new song. I love his really biographical works." Paul switched on the lights with a touch of his phone. He and AJ were school friends, their affair lasting several years; only Paul was a serial philanderer. The tall business man stood and his girlfriend could see he was dressed down in his gym clothes. She accepted the brief hug and a kiss. Knowing intimate details about the guitarist of the Forgotten Heroes, Paul shared with her. AJ with his serious mental health and substance abuse issues.

Paul sighed "I had a mammoth email from Lexie. Did you know he had another breakdown this summer? That one did not make it into the papers. Not surprising considering he was stabbed by that bitch. He only now has he got around to tell me about. I hope this Karl is as nice as Cassian makes out. Lexie deserves to be happy."

"So do you, big guy" stated his current live in lover honestly.

The tall man then chuckled "I threw happiness away because it did not fit my image. Fuck! I loved him." Paul was pushing for a fight with his beautiful model girlfriend, trying to get her jealous. He knew his grandmother was bitching about ditching Lana.

She could see the obvious manipulation and that he was being honest in his own shitty way that he was still grieving for his Lexie, not the actual living breathing man, but that ideal of youthful indiscretion and effortless closeness. Lana could play to those rules, she just had to work a bit harder to make this real. "You gotta let him go, then let yourself be happy." She was trying to sound ever so understanding and sympathetic, but she was going to have to up her game to make this billionaire open up and be happy. One fact in her favour was as the daughter of working class immigrants she was not good enough to marry into Roscoe Industries, as the matriarch who ruled the roost in the Roscoe Hamptons Retreat had already made her displeasure known about Lana. She was used to working hard to get what she wanted and Paul Roscoe was a man in her sights. She would take a water tight prenup and be the perfect corporate wife, then hopefully mother. Not making the mistakes of Paul's parents. She was keeping it real and never settling for the tightly secure high society bubble. She needed her feet firmly on the ground, to be realistic and she could be that for Paul. Sex was the hook, but getting him to relax and move out of his comfort zone was the way to connect with him. One thing in her favour she could blow as good as any guy and was going to up her game and spice things up with a bit of role play. Maybe if she switched and became mistress Paul would remove the burr from his ass.

…

"Fuck, Paul! Stop ringing me in the middle of the night and don't lie about forgetting I'm in fucking Europe." Cassian swore in mock annoyance as he had actually been trying to write.

Paul knew his frenemy too well, "Don't lie about actually being asleep. You get by on about four hours night max like me. So, how was your stint in that clinic for sex addiction? I think I might need to attend. I fucked two interns today. If Lana gets wind of this she will fuck off back to the Bronx."

The dark haired twenty five year old lay back and grinned, he used therapy to reset to normal and moderate as his behaviour when it edged to the extreme. The incident at Krakow had been a wakeup call that he needed to put a bit of distance between himself and his fans. Cassian James had always skirted the extreme and loved the fact as a talented musician he could indulge himself more than most. "You are who you are Paul. You are careful enough not to fall into honey traps and we all know you are great in the sack. Don't worry about La-La-Lana. She'll forgive you. Its just sex. If she wanted monogamy she would have walked after meeting Susie." The apartment had insufficient soundproofing as the guest could hear the familiar sound of Alex hitting his orgasmic high. "Can you hear that? They fuck like bunnies. I swear they make us seem like amateurs. You had three girls today? Alex and Karl are on round five. You blew over your perfect partner because he was the wrong gender. On the sex olympics score card, they are a gold medal cert. I blew him first and you fucked him first and then both us us blew it with Lovely Lexie. Karl gives Alex what he wants, a skewed normal. I hope nothing gets between them, because they are the real deal on the relationship high neither of us will ever achieve."

Paul knew he did not have the option of being the perpetual ladies man and that fun time had to stop. "I swear I will try my hardest to make my future marriage work and I will invest time and myself for my bride and any children. My dad fucked up his marriage and was cheated out of making it right with me by Grief. You got your shit sorted with your mom. Alex eventually got decent parents and he needs a solid guy in his corner. La-La is fun but I think I not what I'm after in a life partner. Hell, I doubt I'll settle before I hit 35. You will need one hell of a girl to tame you as well, or was Lexie your only dip into bi-sexuality like me?"

Cassian had played the field with both genders, but preferred tall, skinny women. He had used all in his arsenal to help his good friend Alex to break out from his severe control issues and move from very isolated loner to dare to love. "Lexie, he's so fragile and all I did was just gave him a shove in the right direction. I doubt any woman could hack his fucked up existence and life game of extreme paranoia. You need to see his soul and selflessly fill his need for love, not the horror of his scars, not the flinches caused by all he suffered and negotiate the minefield of his self hatred. Karl is a big puppy dog, who loves sex… who would have guessed that. You gotta met him. He's like a happy puppy and scary wolf all rolled in one. I just need a girl or guy like Karl. Just don't start matchmaking yet, not while I still enjoy models, starlets and wannabe popstars by the dozen." Tomorrow he would find a nice bedwarmer and stop getting turned on by the antics on the other side of the wall.


	15. Chapter 15

Ike paced with his six week old daughter. Her twin was in his wife's arms getting her elevenses. The video shoot today was the last band commitment before an agreed nine month hiatus.

"Do you think Alex will settle with Karl?" The compact and ever-energetic drummer asked Debra-Ann, a woman with female intuition in spades.

The woman considered her answer, she had not known AJ during his short time at school. She had been home off sick with stomach flu on that awful day in October 2002. She and Ike had already been dating, but not yet seriously. Ike had been one of the few to keep tabs on AJ during his seven months of extreme agoraphobia that followed, as he had visited the school hero for short chats through his bedroom door. Describing each interaction with his best friend Gray and his sweetheart, Debbi. AJ, a friend of Ike's before Gray chased the guitarist to fill the lineup after the departure of Mike and Bren. "I was so sure Paul was going to be there for Alex long term, but all it took was for two nasty magazine articles to speculate over heroin and cocaine addiction for that man to ditch him. We all knew Alex and Cassian both used. Never a problem, he stopped immediately when Cass told him he was out of control in Seattle four years ago. It was the shitty break-up that drove Alex to drink, though that four hours spent getting cross examined at Sydney might have had more to do with it. Both Paul and Alex have worked to patch up their friendship. I'd have never spoken to the bastard again if he'd moved out on me without an explanation to shack up with a freaking airhead bimbo." The annoyed red head exhaled, thinking of that break-up always got her blood up. She had been the assistant tour manager for the Smoking Gun World Tour, glad have transferred to be working part time for the band publicity. "Karl is a sweet guy, but he'll need true inner steel to get Alex when he hits the skids considering his self hatred issues. This summer the big guy showed he was there for his man, stating to Kat and Daisy that his boyfriend came before his job. That shows proper grit. Will they live in Copenhagen? Not a chance, AJ may have been born in foggy old London Town but he is a true Californian. He's taken up surfing since he moved to Malibu and he bikes up to our place in Topanga regularly. He's happier than I've ever seen him ever since his parents moved into his place. I'm on the fence about long term until the next album's in the bag. In case you have not noticed AJ and Cassian are hustling for moving record company, this Sony deal has come just before you guys renegotiate your next contract. If the next album goes platinum you will have every major label after you. Things like this make or break bands. Gray being a director of Lost&Alone is going to be a sticking point and you might be the only voice of reason when push comes to shove."

Ike pondered his wife's dark forecast for the future. The band had always been based on going with the all in agreement approach and ditching anything that caused split decisions. He and AJ normally happy to go with whatever Cass and Gray agreed with the comfort that a no meant no. Ike scrubbed his itchy beard, glad it was getting shaved off today. Before he gently placed the sleeping Lizzy into her Moses basket and started pacing with Molly to wind her. His thoughts drawn back to those dark days in 2009 when AJ skirted with alcoholism and self harm, when the guitarist had come close to ending it all.

...

The summer of festival dates across Europe from Ireland to Hungary had been a knock out success. The Forgotten Heroes had picked up great reviews for Smoking Gun in the European press and their album had charted in every country they had played. They were now on the map as international rock stars with a proven record of a great live set. The right mix of songs, graphics and stage craft with Ike and Gray providing entertainment. AJ only occasionally interacted directly with the crowd. His linguist abilities providing a welcome surprise as he injected his opinions or reflections of living in Mexico, France and Germany.

The last time he had been home he had flown from from Budapest to Frankfurt and then to New York; after ten weeks on the road he had relaxed for a week in Manhattan, mostly spent in bed and then ten days in the Hamptons relaxing at the Roscoe beach house, playing tennis, volleyball, golf and swimming. Time to connect and relax with Paul. Today he had flown from Osaka to New York after four weeks away. He got back to a dark apartment, which surprised Alex as a Paul's driver had picked him up from JFK. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and noted the wine rack was empty. Not that the ex-spy liked wine that much, it was more Paul and Cass' tipple of choice, both guys knew their vintages and varieties. The tired traveller then moved to the bedroom and the walk-in closet to test out his uneasy feeling. His clothes still there but all of Paul's things were gone. His boyfriend had moved out. It was 10pm on a Sunday night and he had flown for 17 hours to the finality of having been dumped. Alex put the half drunk bottle of water in the trash, moved put his acoustic guitar and favourite electric guitar in their cases, balanced both to pick up his overnight bag and leave. Everything else could wait for the movers tomorrow. He got to the Lobby and the doorman got him a cab.

"Where to?" said the driver without a backward glance at his fare.

Alex tried to think of a hotel on the other side of the town, but settled on "The Four Seasons Midtown." Liz's favourite hotel in the Big Apple. She swore by the room service, when Edward had been booked there as part of his last book tour.

…..

After settling into the splendid anodyne luxury of the Executive Suite, Alex ate his indulgent room service meal of home comforts consisting of two grilled cheese sandwiches with a side of fries and a large portion of vanilla ice-cream and downed with two pints of Guinness. Before a bath, Alex booted up his iPad mini and checked social media. Paul Roscoe was in Bermuda with Jade Langley. He had been dumped for a minor TV soap actress. So much for being friends first. Alex rang down to book a room service breakfast for 8. He had a lot to organise tomorrow, including packing and moving back home to San Mateo, but also delivering his own WTF letter to Paul via his PA; the one way to guarantee the guy would get his message. He had known this moment was going to happen sooner rather than later, he had just expected his best friend to have been less of a coward about it and let Alex down gently with a meal and a goodbye fuck, not the bleak finality of fucking a bimbo on a tropical island when he knew Alex was returning to NYC. It had definitely been you can stay in the apartment, but without Paul why would he stay in on the East Coast. Better to move closer to the guys, who all lived in LA now.

Paul had missed the concert in Tokyo three weeks ago; a city they both loved. Work commitments had been a thinly veiled lie, as the reason for his boyfriends absence had been a vicious piece in the National Enquirer including a hazy photo of Alex snorting cocaine taken two years ago during his last bing in Seattle. The story made it into the gossip mags and TV entertainment news, AJ Pleasure was widely speculated to be a drug addict, when in the truth was he'd been clean for over two years since the recording of their first album.

….

The moving company packers, who had fit him in as an emergency, met him at 10, by midday he had cleared the apartment of his stuff and binned everything else. At 1:30 he had booked a meeting with Ms. Melanie Ibanez, PA to technical director Paul Roscoe at Roscoe Electronics and Communications Inc. He had no need to clean, the only items left for him to carry as he locked the door for the last time were a shitty Marshall amp and a Cort EVL-K5 Electric Guitar. He strapped the guitar over his back and picked up the small amp to walk two blocks to his afternoon appointment. Dressed in tight leather trousers, long sleeve distressed t-shirt, Ray-bans and bed head blond hair, he was the image of AJ Pleasure rock star.

The lift took his to the tenth floor and he walked to the cubicle used by Mel. She stood and hugged Alex after he put down the amp. "Of all the shitty things for Paul to do! I still can't believe he chose Ms. Pneumatic Boobs over his best friend. He knew you were back yesterday. I have no idea when he cleared his stuff out. I was not party to that. Though, I bet his security detail know. You and he were a great match. Guess, he's going to deny ever living with you and go with the just good friends as flat mates card, considering he fucked every available female when your back was turned just to prove to himself he was mostly heterosexual. That mountain of denial is going to hit him like a sledgehammer someday."

Alex shrugged "I knew it was on the horizon, I just expected him to take me back to Mexico for a final wonderful hurrah to tell me he was moving on. I'm just a hopeless romantic though. At least we had Mexico."

Paul's PA had been Alex's best friend in New York. "Funny thing, you posted being single and Cassian rang me for a good gossip. So, I take it the guitar and amp is part of your send off?"

"Yeah, I spoke to Misha." The one member of Paul's security detail who as ex-FSB, knew precisely that AJ was formerly known as Alex Rider. "He told me the bimbo was behind his boss' decision to be super straight. Also told me Paul was in for a meeting in the corner meeting room upstairs with the technical team from the phone division. All top secret new line stuff, hence why you're not required in the meeting. So, I'm going to serenade my ex in true 'fuck you, you asshole all this was yours but you blew it' style." Alex guessed that of everything he would miss this efficient PA more than anything else in New York.

As he exited the stairs, Alex went straight to the photocopier and unplugged it, and plugged in his amp, connected his guitar and made sure it was loud but not too loud, as his vocals were un-amplified. Disjointed Chords and feedback and then into the best intro he had ever composed. Alex put his heart and soul into the song he had written for Paul on the beach two years ago.

As the last note wavered into static, the guitarist unstrapped his instrument, put an envelope containing his hand written sheet music, the apartment key and his goodbye letter to his love; not one word bitter nor spiteful; but an essay on all the things that had been good. As he unplugged the amp he walked to the stairs as all on the floor watched him and hearing Paul call him from the open door of the meeting room. The tall blond kept on walking, not looking back, but moving on.

At the Hotel, reception had told the guest of an old school friend waiting in the bar. There with shoulder length dreadlocks and mismatched clothes sat Joe Canterbury. "Hey, superhero, I got your favourite."

"Thanks, Champ." Alex sat down at the bar and immediately picked out the olive from his vodka martini and ate it, before he downed his beverage with true thirst muttering a toast "to shitty exes".

The blogger, sometime hacker and environmental activist then looked at his phone "I, Cass and Tom have been texting and emailing you with no reply?"

"Phone's off and I've not checked my email since this morning. Just got back from disrupting a meeting at Roscoe industries and left Paul a parting gift. My Cort and my shitty first amp… I took them with me to Mexico. Best week of my entire life. To the future and more weeks like that, ehh Joe." Alex knew damn well that Joe had been ordered to keep an eye on Alex and possibly deliver him home to San Francisco as they all expected him to be a proper basket case over this sudden break up. "I'm fine, Joe. Ate breakfast this morning. How about we go to a decent vegan restaurant to celebrate Paul's denial of all things queer?"

Joe stared at Alex, who was not visibly upset, but just unbearably sad. His eyes betraying that his soul was hurt, not rom Paul's thoughtless actions as they all expected those, but from hard lesson they had all learnt far too young. Alex' had lived through not one horror but many. This was a true thousand yard stare as Alex ordered another Martini at 3pm in the afternoon, when Joe had barely tasted his.

At 11pm, Alex was snoring laid spreadeagled on his bed in the suite as Joe phoned Alex's parents. "Hi… … Edward. Alex is definitely not OK, but it not worse case scenario. He's not having a breakdown. He has drunk like a fish, his dark humour on top form. Took me to his favourite vegan place, which served the best burgers. So, we kind of celebrated the end of his thing with Paul. Talked a lot about Mexico, that they had been trying to hang onto something that was not salvageable. Ever the realist. So, Paul is not a dead man walking, just the selfish dick we all knew he was. I'll travel with him to San francisco tomorrow, stay a few days then let you guys chill. Now I have to phone Tom, Cass and Jamie."

….

Dave Meadows was waiting at Sydney for AJ to clear passport control and customs. It had been nearly four hours since the flight from San Francisco had landed; when Alex walked through the doors with his overnight bag but without his guitar.

"Where's your Taylor? The airline didn't loose it, did they?" A $3000 acoustic was something that normally went with AJ into the cabin and not into the hold.

"Bastards thought I was carrying. Wanted to drill holes into a hand built custom guitar. So, I helped them find out it was nothing more that a guitar. Almost got arrested for smashing my own property to pieces but I proved the point it was clean." Alex did not mention that it had been a spook from CAD division of Australian Intelligence services that had been the one insisting on the full search protocols. Search and interview from hell. Detailed questions about his every meeting with Joe Byrne, who was retired and his friendship with Dimitry Ivanov, who was basically an office clerk with the FSB in Moscow. He had also found out Tom Harris, a man he had last spoken to in 2004, was now an analyst with MI5.

"Shit, AJ. They must have been really bad for you to lose your temper." Dave thought the band's guitarist was one of the most even-tempered and easy going guys in both the band and crew.

"Look, I'll tell you all about it at the hotel bar. I need liquid relaxation. Two dry weeks and I'm gasping."

….

Ike shuddered thinking of Alex during the Antipodean leg of their first world tour; when he had started drinking and stopped eating, all thanks to those series of unfortunate events. If Karl bailed, it might be too much for Alex, who was adamant this was real, this was forever; that they were soul mates. All his eggs in one basket was a recipe for disaster for a guy held together by therapy and mood stabilisers.


	16. Chapter 16

Alex stared at the journalist, a young handsome guy with a fake smile, obviously bored senseless by interviewing a stupid rock musician judging by his list of anodyne, stupid and blatantly obvious questions.

"It was noted you missed Australia out from your last tour. Was that due to visa problems?"

"No. We had some serious issues during the Australian leg of our last tour in 2009. The press was mostly negative and sales not great. So, from the outset we decided just to have a slightly shorter tour this time around. We may address our issues by doing smaller venues next time and maybe with a tailored set." That was a bland enough answer over the truth that Alex stated he was never going back there, as he had been confronted by his awful past when the Aussie Security Service had accused him of still being a player.

"You became a vegetarian at the same time as giving up drinking, which was harder, giving up meat or booze?"

"Booze, not a day goes by I do not want a beer or a vodka. I went off meat as a teenager, so it was just a case of giving up burgers and hotdogs. The vegan alternatives are great"

"Has the incident with the fan kerbed your relaxed attitude to being approached by fans off stage?"

"No not really. Most people are great, friendly and excited. Maria was ill and psychosis is frighteningly real when your stuck there. I get mental illness issues." Dodging the fact he was OK as long as there was no touching involved, then he flinched at best and had panic attacks at worst. Alex then decided to have a breather, "Fancy a cuppa?" which came out in his native Estuarine accent.

"Errr… what?"

"I'm putting the kettle on. Tea? Got several varieties. If I make coffee I can guarantee dad will join us. He can small a caffeine fix a mile off."

"Coffee would be great."

Alex had barely poured the water into the cafetiere when his dad knocked on the door and came in with a cheerful "I brought cookies."

Edward appraised the young buck writing for Guitar Player, who was presently studying Alex's guitar collection, but then looked closely at the photo of eight boys stood in front of smouldering helicopter crash. "That has to be the weirdest school photo. Was it a ski trip?"

"No, Point Blanc Academy in Grenoble. A place that appears on no educational lists as it was strictly invite only." Edward said.

Alex put down the tray of coffee and added "Think Hogwarts but for very naughty boys. Cass is the one sticking his tongue out and my brother in law is the one doing the one finger salute. I'm sat with Hugo. He's Mr. Paranoia, worse than even me or Paul."

As they all settled down for conversation over their beverages. The journalist started digging "Paul , your ex?"

"Yeah." Alex said before adding "We're still friends."

"Were you an item then?"

"At fourteen? No, I was in major denial about my sexuality until Cass got me to admit I was gay, by snogging me senseless."

"So you guys are all school friends then?"

"I'm still friends with all the guys from France to various degrees. I have a much smaller circle of friends from San Mateo, mostly mutual friends through Ike, Holly and Sabina."

The reporter looked puzzled "Holly?"

"Gray's sister. The fifth unofficial member of the band."

"Were you friends with Mike and Bren?" the journalist asked of the two guys in the original line up, now reduced to performing as a sort of tribute band.

"No, 'fraid not." Sabina had told Alex that Bren was a tosser of the highest order and Mike was his little yes-man, which was his sister at her bitchiest best.

"And regarding the article in the National Enquirer, of the transcript of a phone conversation between Cassian James and his mother that you developed issues over food after the suicide of your father in the summer of 2001. Was your father Damian Cray?"

Alex looked completely stunned for a moment and then started laughing at that absurdity. Cass had been talking about Sarov. It was possibly the most hilarious misunderstanding in the universe and one Alex could not correct because of the OSA. The older journalist looked like he was about to explode in anger at the mention of Cray; only he was more concerned as Alex was now crying with mirth and trying to hide the fact by covering his face in his hands. The creepy singer had looked nothing like Alex.

Edward was scolding the young man "That's possibly the worst practical joke ever and in very bad taste, considering Cray nearly killed my wife and I. I think you should leave."

Alex was rolling on the floor holding his sides as they ached when Edward returned from escorting the music journalist from the property. The young man gasped "Oh God that's so completely illogical. We can't even deny it. Being a Rider is practically a state secret. Oh Jesus, the thought of that man procreating. I should not be laughing but vomiting at the mere thought of it. Shit, I need to tell Sabina that."

"Its really not funny, but you did look like you were having an emotional breakdown."

Alex sat up and shook his head, knowing that being open about his past with his friends had caused this FUBAR as some nasty piece of work must have hacked his friend's phone hoping for details on his chaotic love life. "Dad, lets go to Venice and eat ice-cream until were either sick or have terminal brain freeze. I need to phone Joe and Cass. This is going to be monumentally bad if that cunt actually prints that pile of bull." Then Alex had a horrible brainstorm, "AJ Cray… its just like Rolan Bolan and Zowie Bowie, of course everyone is going to think I am actually his bloody kid. Kill me now. I feel so dirty."

…

Edward and Liz were staying with Dieter Sprintz to escape the media storm and Alex was happy to hide out with Hugo in Amsterdam. The whole family escaping LA on a Roscoe Industries jet, so giving the baying pack of media hounds the slip. In three days he would travel to Stockholm for the last gig in Karl's latest tour. The Conspiracy Theory King was calling Alex 'Damian Junior', but was helping to spread interference over the actual stupidity of that article's revelations. The executors of the Cray estate had strongly denied that AJ Pleasure was the biological child of Damian Cray and had gone as far to state in 1984-1988, the pop star had been engaged to Ms. Desiree Howard, now the wife of Conservative MP Charles Babbington.

Hugo was cooking an omelette, the only item in his limited repertoire of dishes that was vegetarian. He had let Alex cook for two days and was trying his hardest to be a good host. As he served up glasses of non-alcoholic beer to accompany the spanish potato and onion tortilla, the Dutch recluse let the cat out of the bag. "Dimitry has emailed a suggestion about publishing a photo of you and Alexei Sarov taken on Cuba in 2001, and compare you at 18 with a photo of Vladimir, your near clone half brother. No one gives a shit about a long dead Russian general. Well maybe a few hard liners in Siberia. Kiriyenko might also join the fray, we have to wait and see if its pro or anti you being Sarov's bastard English son. You do know that Sarov, who was in London in May to August 1986 for disarmament talks."

Alex huffed, upset at the damage that bit of misinformation had caused. "Cray's fans are all nuts. I've been getting hate mail for the suggesting the possibility of Cray committed suicide. We all know he's living with Elvis in the Bermuda Triangle." The rumours had run rife over how Edward Pleasure had taken in the traumatised son of his enemy. His death on Air Force One had not been made public knowledge in Edward's book, just the kidnapping and attempted assassination by a deranged megalomaniac. "I'm about to arrange my own disappearance because I cannot hack it if the whole house of cards disintegrates and my years as MI6's bitch become public knowledge. Sarov and Cray are only the tip of the iceberg, but I'd rather be Cray's crazy unknown son than the reality of spy boy."

"Chill, Alex. We can have a smoke and a cuddle. I grow some good stuff on the fire escape. Better than any dealer's shit. You are safe here or with Dimitry. We will keep you hidden."

"That journalist had a good look at our parting photo from Grenoble. I can bet he knows who Paul is. God help him if he tries to hurl shit at Mr. Big Bucks." Alex wondered if the outing of Paul Roscoe was next.

Hugo rolled a joint, but would not worry about any shit printed about his friends. Words would only be echoes of the awful truth. Most still thought Michael Roscoe and General Ivanov died in tragic accidents, not the fact they were murdered. "Its OK, Alex. We're survivors. We walked away and are living our lives, not Grief's abominations. Julius is dead. My clone locked in a secure psychiatric unit, raving about ruling the world with his brothers." The French had buried those bastards deep in the system helped by the fact Grief's son's had no papers and officially did not exist.

They lay on the bed and blew smoke rings, after four puffs all anxiety forgotten. Alex then asked his host "Got any vodka?"

…..

Debra-Ann made up the guest room. She and Ike were offering sanctuary to Alex and Karl. The last few weeks had been manic over the stupid lies about Damian Cray. Karl had emailed to request that they ditch any spirits in the house before they got there, which meant Alex had fallen off the wagon.

Ike picked the pair of them up from LAX, driving Alex's black Range Rover. The small man was glad his home was surrounded by trees and a large wall. His two hounds roaming free, both with barks worse than their bites but the paparazzi did not know that, all they saw was huge dogs with snarling bared white teeth. As Alex opened the trunk, Cesar bounded up and proceeded to lick the bearded man's face with his front paws resting on his shoulders. The dog then promptly rolled over for his stomach to be tickled. Baron was doing his job as the larger of the two was sat by the gates waiting for any unexpected guests.

"Debs, you gotta see our two mountain men. I swear I did not recognise them, only AJ's guitar case." Karl looked ruggedly handsome with longer hair and his auburn beard. Alex looked gaunt, pale and the thick bushy light brown beard and straggly hair hidden by a bandana made him look like a hobo.

The woman held her hands up to her face in mock horror, "I thought the beard thing was over after the last video shoot. You suited a moustache more than that mess I'm afraid Alex."

"I looked like a wannabe dictator with a moustache. Don't worry, I'm off to trim it now. Soon it will be a stylish goatee. Karl's keeping his though, I really like it. Kinky I know." Alex winked at Debs as he walked across the hall to the guest accommodations.

The hostess then alerted the pair to be on their best behaviour "My parents are coming tomorrow, expect my dad at his worst." Ike's father in law was a lay preacher. He only begrudgingly accepted alternative lifestyles.

Karl turned on the shower, the fourteen hour journey had left him clammy and grimy. Alex was stood over the sink trimming his beard with scissors. "They did not notice our rings."

"Lets see who's the first to realise we tied the knot."


	17. Chapter 17

Tom McMorin looked out of place in the trendy wine bar in Santa Monica. He was unashamedly dressed in ripped and stained dungarees and an equally distressed fisherman's sweater and canvas shoes. He was reading a copy of a new very unofficial book on AJ Pleasure, written with the angle that the Forgotten Heroes' guitarist was Damian Cray's love child. "Both strict vegetarians, both with amazing vocal range and gifted musicians, AJ applied to his father's alma mater, the Royal College of Music. God, this guy has me believing that your dad was the creepy English pop star dude, not the actual creepy English dude who was married to your birth mother."

"Shut up, Thomas. Check the real facts that bastard was a puny 5'5" tall… I was as tall as him at fourteen and Sabina towered over him. He dyed his hair, but that doesn't work as I get my 100% natural blond locks from my birth mother. Brown eyes, check his were green. Plus I'm a handsome bastard and he wasn't." Alex said as he listed the fact Cray looked nothing like him.

"Denial is a River in Egypt. Its not like you can out your real parents considering its a national security risk. Dima's idea over Sarov has merit. At least you looked like him, a lot. Really, its uncanny. You know he sent us all copies of the pictures from Cuba and your bro, Vladimir is you but with blue eyes."

"I already told Dima forget Sarov! May that man burn in hell. Christ, considering my actual sperm donor father was in prison for Murder and got paid to off people, he's a better role model than either Cray or Sarov." Alex smiled automatically as the waitress brought over their drinks. He savoured his martini, as he was restricting himself to one this evening. He was drinking but had set himself strict limits on consumption to appease everyone. Karl was the only one not on his case about control issues, as he sensibly adhered to all things were OK in moderation. "All the guys are busy finishing off the album, but I'm spent. I'm dreading publicity and touring. I feel like walking and they've all been shitty about me drinking and its not an issue, its liquid relaxation."

The Canadian knew he was being a sounding board, as Cassian, Jamie, Joe and Paul were all closer to Alex than he was. "Stopped going to AA then?"

"I'm not an alcoholic. Do not spout denial at me. I… I'm tired. I'm hiding in my room tired. This bullshit about Cray is too close to school, the Bank, Venice and Cairo. Its unravelling the buffer between me now and the shit-storm of my life before seven months in my bedroom and reinventing myself as a musician. I'm not even a proper musician, sure I can play, I write basic stuff, but I do not go beyond that. The other guys polish my musings into art. I hate every song I contributed to this new album. I wanted my raw pain and my demos are it. The other guys love Mac, but he does not listen to me, his production agenda is to move more units, get awards and my agenda is trying to keep my shit together. I'm failing. I told Karl to take the job with Anya and he's in Switzerland recording with her now. I'm due out there this weekend, but what do I do about getting this Cray bull binned? Even Cass' mum says it'll never blow over, its part of the zeitgeist now."

Tom McMorin was still party to the media empire created by his mother. He would inherit seven newspapers, two publishers, cable and network TV, broadband and satellite communications. He knew his time spent campaigning about the loss of Canada and Alaskan forest, tundra and natural resources was finite. He was already editing blogs and a magazine on environmental and nature issues, he was well versed in publicity and had appeared on numerous news and current affairs programmes. "You need to be frank and give an interview. Cray kidnapped you and Sabina, threatened you both. He was a bona fide nutcase. You may have to tell everyone just what a creep he was, him and your beau, Gregorovich. Sabina, Ed and Liz will back you up. Family because of that shit."

…

The meeting about the video shoot was being conducted with not one word from Alex. He looked at his watch, now they were overrunning. After being all but ignored by all, Alex coughed then made his departing statement softly and with only Cassian listening. "Guys, I have a prior appointment, so do what you feel like, but remember I think the single remix sucks and if you want me to be in the video you need to actually treat me like a human being, not part of the wallpaper. Caio."

A car was there to pick him up. He had his favourite acoustic guitar with him and an overnight bag. The guitar bought by Liz and Ed as an sixteenth birthday present. Not a hand built custom one off, just an off the shelf good quality guitar bought in San Mateo guitar shop for a boy who had retreated from the world and had agreed to guitar lessons as part of his on going therapy. He was off to LAX, leaving Cass, Gray and Ike to hammer out their vision of the new album, Reflections of Another Life. Their first effort without design input from Holly, who was directing her first film. Alex was away for a week, as agreed with their management. His inter-band communication reduced to non-verbal means. Check in, security and straight through to the departure gate for a flight direct to Zurich and four days with Anya and beautiful, calm and understanding Karl. Five months since their partnership ceremony and none of the band had queried the plain titanium band on his left hand ring finger. Denmark had been the first country to legalise gay partnerships in the eighties, for Karl it had been completely natural to want to formalise their relationship as they were fully committed and mutually inclusive. The guitarist had a possible interview to mull over. On the way back he was going to London to talk it over with his ever sensible and fully supportive sister, Sabina who was even more grounded than her parents.

He was waiting to board when Ike texted him.

Ike: "Where are you?"

Alex: "LAX"

Ike: "WTF?!"

Alex "Check ur emails. Bookd a long wknd with friends."

Ike then phoned. "Shit! Gray is having an meltdown! You have been so quiet. Are you OK?"

Alex sighed "No… I… I will be, just let me have a bit of space. I promise I'm not going on a bender. Anya will not stand for that, as you know I'm there to work. I'm recording for her on Monday as all detailed in the diary with Ms. Millward's agreement. See you guys on Thursday evening if you're desperate or Friday if you want me semi recovered from major jet lag. I still don't like the single production at all, but hey I only wrote the fucking song. See you next week, Ike. Tell Gray to calm down and to actually read his emails as he stopped listening to me about twelve weeks ago. I told him about going to Zurich two weeks ago. Love to your girls, but my flight is boarding."

Ike put his phone down and smiled at his best friend "You are a shithead, Grayson. AJ is recording with Anya on Monday, flight leaving in 30 minutes. So you timetabled this very important last minute meeting when he could not attend, so no go on anything. Reschedule for Friday or you decide how to shoot a video on Tuesday without our guitarist who is meant to be the main player. You fucked up. Daisy cleared his schedule and you and Cass have been acting like you are in Kindergarten over AJ falling off the wagon. He's not missed any meetings, practice or recording sessions; except this one and you have already decided to throw him out of the band. He goes, I go. Fuck you and your shitty back stabbing. I'm off home."

Cassian returned from his cigarette break to see Gray sat on his own contemplating the band's future. "Finally realised that Alex was away for your scheduled reshoot for the video for that guaranteed top ten remix." He had watched his best friend retreat into silence rather than butt heads with Gray over his vision for the band's future. The pianist had been waiting for the right moment to straight talk, but Alex did the right thing as always and kept working and managed his problems without disrupting anyone else. "Lexie's a nervous wreck over you playing big boss. The 'my way or the highway' approach is rather limiting, but its your company and your band. I get that we are just pawns to your grand plan. Lexie lived with that hanging over him as a teenager, which left him the basket case he is today. He probably's fighting the urge to kill you. I know I am. Both he and I are up for this last spin of the wheel, but our contract's over, as the last album's in the bag. Consider this sayonara, big man."

…

Tuesday Lunchtime and Alex walked up three flights of stairs in the apartment building in Mayfair, home to Mr and Mrs Sprintz. The door opened by a heavily pregnant Sabina, "OK, stupid, don't call me fat, or else. T-minus 6 weeks and I'm a blimp and little Miss Footballer is a nightmare. God, I can understand why mum stopped at one. Any maternal feelings in future and we'll adopt."

…..

Alex almost believed Gray was sorry after his apology, almost but not quite. The founder of Forgotten Heroes had bigger fish to fry than placating his off-kilter lead singer. Ike was seriously pissed off with his best friend and was back playing the game 'I'm just the drummer' when ever asked to do anything or answer a question.

"You want to what?" Alex exclaimed sure he had misheard the big shot new record company executive.

The guy in the bad suit was full of a million ideas to make money. "Kassi, she's a new signing, needs a high profile first record, so a cover of 'Misplaced', keeping your guitar hook as a sample but with heavier bass and a dance mix vibe." The creep had a full fake smile like a shark as he looked secretly pleased, as if expecting the songwriter to throw his teddy out of the cot.

Alex tried to understand that they wanted to use a song that only appeared on their first single CD as an additional track and had never been played a concerts, only warm ups. "It's really not commercial, in fact it only made it onto the single release because it was picked by the band over the cover you guys considered more commercial". One of a small number of disagreement the bands had insisted on during their early days with Lost&Alone Records. The song was based on Alex's arguments with the Family and Children's Services during the adoption process, when he had been paranoid and using his control issues as a weapon. His three weeks spent in the closet in his room, only emerging when Edward, Sabina and Liz were asleep. He had been so close to running. It had been a conversation with Joe Byrne that had made him settle, that sticking it out with Liz, Edward and Sabina was the ultimate revenge on MI6, because by hanging in there and being as close to normal as he could manage disproved their psychological assessment of their broken teen spy. He was sort of there. A million miles from operative or trained killer for hire. Paranoid, yes but it was justified.

Nick Henderson was giving Alex a bad vibe. The guy was too overtly friendly with the guitarist and lead singer, cutting out the other members of the band, but kind of pushy. Alex got it was a less than subtle attempt to get under His skin. "Clear it with Gray and Cass, I'll go with whatever they decide."

Round one to Alex having out manoeuvred the dick. He picked up the glass Henderson had been drinking from with a napkin, wrapping it carefully. Trusting instincts honed by his surviving deep cover operations, he was going to check this Henderson guy out. Joe Byrne owed him a favour or three and his friend Joe Canterbury could do an thorough off the record background check. The guy had been based in Seattle since there recording of their second album, Smoking Gun. Rising from assistant producer to the the guy pushing for more pop signings and was rumoured to be brokering the take over deal with Sony Music. Alex was possibly being paranoid but anyone taking an interest in him was always viewed as a threat, considering his observations had proved the guy was not a closet fan nor overtly flirty, that meant he was either a spook or out for revenge.

...

Alex stood and contemplated the bucket before him, live TV in front of a studio audience was as terrifying as any gig. Edward was already sat on the sofa with Ms. Sandra Lockington and had done his fifteen minutes of painting Cray for the bastard he was. Here he was about to out Damian Cray as kidnapper and a man who had ordered the murder of two teenagers. Full disclosure agreed with Whitehall and Washington, an reissue of Edward's book out next week dishing full dirt including on Air Force One and Yassen.

"So this afternoon on Sandi we are joined by AJ Pleasure." The audience erupted in wild applause.

"Hi AJ, Edward has already described the bomb attack that nearly killed him and your mum Liz. Can you describe the events you witnessed?"


	18. Chapter 18

Alex knew that paranoia was a symptom of mental illness, only he had plenty of reasons to be very wary of any unexpected coincidences. The Cray business and that creep at the record company had him on edge. He had sleep badly ever since the interview and at 5AM he decided to occupy himself rather than stare at the bedroom ceiling. He needed his soulmate and messaged Karl to ring him when he was able. Anya had given Karl a contract for her tour, nabbing him for the next 12 months. They would meet up every three weeks or so for the scheduled breaks, considering his own band was rehearsing for their tour in America and Europe. Ike had again played the 'my wife is pregnant again' card, and Debs was suffering with severe morning sickness. The drummer was suggestion a smaller venue tour, which had unfortunately been vetoed by Gray.

Alex put on no lights as he wandered downstairs to put on his coffee machine and then noted he had an unexpected guest, Joe Byrne was on deck enjoying the sea view.

Placing the double espresso in front of his former handler, Alex quipped "Hi, Joe. Here to tell me I'm delusional." Secretly hoping he was, that everything was fine and al this was in his head. Only he knew it wasn't because the retired deputy director of the CIA Covert Operations was here.

"Crazy yes, I know I am to still be playing this game. Our search found out your record company guy is SCORPIA. On our files implicate him for the murder of three DEA agents in Columbia in 2002. The FBI is tailing him as we need to take down his support network. Our analysts have suggested that he was pushing for you to have a more serious breakdown and loose all credibility in the music business. So, we need him to think he's succeeded. Are you up to being bait?"

"Don't worry I'm practically back in the zone of ultra paranoid operative, just be aware you may have to provide the men in white coats to drag me off." Alex winced at the awful timing for this. "We have our tour date starting in five weeks, the insurers will bale for sure if I start being erratic."

"Not if its a national security risk and you are acting as bait for us. SCORPIA had us fooled, we thought those bastards were consigned to history. They want to destroy your current alias. You've had problems with your band in the last year, his game plan is well thought out and executed. How the hell did you smoke him out?"

"It was the fact he was too interested in me, considering all the other guys in the band are the ones that create, fashion, decide and push the band agenda, I'm just there to sing, play my piece and be cajoled into performing. If he'd never spoken to me directly he would have gotten away with getting me ditched from the band and drinking myself into an early grave. Karl scuppered his plans more than anything. I have my rudder for this storm, one I have placed out of harms way. I was so right keeping our partnership secret."

Joe smiled "Belated Congratulations on that. Got to hand it to you, you're protecting your man with your perfectly thought out misdirection; getting hitched as a last minute thing during your last spell drinking, not telling your friends and then separating afterwards, which gives the impression you are cooling off and no longer close. Just a drunken mistake."

One thing Alex hated about his upbringing was his need to plan fifteen moves ahead and try to predict all possibilities for everything going wrong. The fact the CIA was taking this threat seriously meant they predicted full disclosure that they had used a child operative, not the Nancy Drew sleuthing used to unmask Cray as described by Alex and Sabina in their interviews. "I fancy a few days rest, so maybe a few days in DC and stay with the other Joe, your namesake who is almost as paranoia as you. The low down is I've not been sleeping well, being sober sucks and I miss my man. Do your worst, Joe. Just don't expect me to be the hellion I was at fifteen. You guys know I'm still as psychologically unstable as I was in 2002." Alex would fight for his friends and family, but there was a good chance if he did there would be no resurrection of Alex or AJ from the broken mess left. Edward and Liz knew the risks, they had lived with death threats for over ten years. This house was bought for he fact it was exposed to the sea, but with high walls and secure gate access and with paranoid neighbours, who had full CCTV and guards. Alex pulled off his ring and put it on his necklace next to his St. Jude medallion. Sabina's idea of a symbol of hope.

…

For five weeks Alex had thoroughly enjoyed music camp, he lived and breathed chords and music. His guitar proving to be a lifeline to moving forward and had helped him put operations, grief and murder into the past. Helped by the fact he was AJ Pleasure, no longer Alex Rider. Cass was also become a best friend, someone who was helping him live not just exist. A week at Cassian's home in Bel Air finished off the best summer of his life.

Leanne James had arranged six boys to share three of her four guest rooms, Alex to share with Cassian. Four already out by the pool and her son and his BFF due back within minutes. Paul and Tom flying in this evening.

In the back of the limo, Alex and Cassian were making out, the kisses deep and passionate. The tall skinny blond haired young man paused for breath. "Want me to wank you off, Cass?"

Cassian laughed at his good fortune, his latest conquest was both a fast learner and very eager to practice. "Sure babe, ready and waiting."

From complete virgin to fully exploring his sexuality. Alex had decided guys were the real deal. Sure he'd probably date girls, but this was pretty amazing. Not a relationship, just friends with benefits, Alex knew he was just another notch on the dark haired lothario's bedpost. Alex wondered if he would ever fall in love. Could he trust another person that much? Cassian was a player and Alex liked his games. The game this week was to tell his fellow classmates from Point Blanc, those who knew he had been a spy for MI6, the full horror story. Nothing left out, even his close encounters with Yassen, Nile and the biggest bastard of them all, his doppelganger Julius. This was going to be group therapy as he was sick of the secrets, they were weighing him down.

….

Alex stood and looked at the Thames, a clear view of Vauxhall, Chelsea and Westminster from Paul's flat at Chelsea Harbour. He could see Cheyne Walk from here, just the roofline of his old home and its neighbours visible through the trees. Karl was making coffee. Here he was safe, as Paul paid for the best security. No bugs, no unexpected guests, no hassle from the record company as he had switched off his phone.

The tall Dane put down the mugs of coffee and looked east following his partner's gaze. "This is where you grew up?"

Alex shrugged "I have hazy memories of weeks spent here as a kid, but we moved around Europe often. Paris, Berlin, Barcelona, Madrid, but never staying longer than four months anywhere until I started secondary school. Brookland was over there, now called Chelsea College. Catchment included the World's End Estate, my one time best friend Tom Harris lived there. I told you about him."

"Yes, football friends." Karl left off the shot by MI6 and possible homophobe. Another open wound, never fully healed from Alex's horrific past. The ex-rower was lucky his friends had been fully supportive of his sexuality. Both men had stopped wearing their partnership rings openly, in fact no one knew they were still in a relationship as Alex worried over his last conversation with his former handler with the CIA. Leaks over Alex's past, started with the lies over Cray and now questions had been raised about the teen agent foiling the Stormbreaker incident, ArkAngel failure and Cairo assassination. Blurred photos of Alex, and various journalists pondering the identity of the boy agent. Karl had read the CIA threat assessment and had agreed to this playacting of estrangement. He had told Anya that he was playing along with Alex's latest period of extreme paranoia. In the round robin of friends, all were watching Alex closely expecting a breakdown.

Alex sipped his hot beverage and sighed "The FBI are closing in on Henderson. Even if they arrest him, I'm fucked as he'll release everything he has from the SCORPIA files. Then I'll run to ground."

"I'll do whatever you want, but we're a team, Lexie. Together no matter how awful. You are everything to me, I promised after you told me the awful truth last year. We run together."

Alex was fraying around the edges, his sister and parents were unaware of this latest threat, but Alex had told Dieter. Liz and Edward safe in Australia, where his mum was working on a huge film, a production guaranteeing they were away until Christmas and all spare time spent with Milly their grandaughter. "I can't promise anything, but you know where to find me if I run. You have work commitments I will not ask you to break them."

"And your work commitments?"

"Only for twenty dates now on the European tour and I have not signed the new deal with Sony. Daisy is not happy with what's being offered. Those bastards in suits are pushing for the guys to dump me anyway. One more episode and I'm history. An episode I'm in the middle of now. I have no appetite. I'm not sleeping. I haven't written anything at all for months. Cass and Ike are watching me like a hawk and we are due at Sabina's in an hour to play happy families." Alex was distancing himself, from his family, the new addition making his paranoia jump to a new level as Miss Milly Sprintz was another target to get to him as the few remaining fragments left of SCORPIA were still hell bent on revenge.

…..

Sabina cleared the plates, noting Alex had barely eaten anything and looked bone tired. She cornered Karl in the kitchen as he helped make coffee. "Alex is not well as in barely hanging together. Get him to see reason or commit him. He needs a push to get out of this mess."

Karl looked tired himself "I can't, not with the threat of the band dumping him. I give it a week and he'll sign himself in. Then we'll take it from there. He's clean, he's sober but that's not helping. Without those distractions, its only him and the worst case scenarios he's working through in his head. He sees us all dead. Losing everything and I understand completely why he's like that."

"It's not just paranoia, is it? Dieter has increased our security. He's been subtle, but I've noticed." The house next door contained a full team on surveillance. Her PA was ex-Mossad and the doorman was ex-SAS considering Alex had called him Panther. The cleaner was probably also a trained killer. She never shopped in the same store twice in a row. At least she was taking a year off for maternity leave and was flying out for a month in Sydney next week. James, as an independent financier, could work anywhere and had suggested a few weeks holiday in Japan after that.

Karl busied himself steaming the milk. "Byrne paid Alex a visit. I've read an official threat assessment. Alex may have to go into witness protection and that would mean losing family and his friends. I plan to go with him, if all goes bad."

Sabina had guessed as much. "Why now? It's been 12 years."

"Revenge is a dish best served cold."

…

The rehearsal space in Southwark was a converted church. They had run through the set and were discussing moving things around with regard to which songs were more popular. Cass and Ike were using download sales data to fine tune the running order by country. Alex picked up his acoustic guitar and worked through chords.

Gray was sat casually observing Alex, who was not socialising with them or the crew at all and had been a ghost during the American leg of the tour. He had no clue where Alex was staying in London, not with his sister nor with Cassian. His latest bid at sobriety had affected the loner deeply, it was as if he was reverting to extreme introversion. "Any ideas for including old songs, AJ?" He asked softly.

"Why ask me? I'll do what you guys suggest, I'm not that bothered one way or the other ." Alex stated before putting down his guitar and going to the restroom.

Sat on the loo seat, he counted the ceiling tiles before pulling out the knife from its ankle holster. The super sharp ceramic blade made a series shallow cuts on his inner arms, crisscrossing older scars. Mopping up the beads of blood, Alex pulled down his sleeves and went back to pretend to be a rock star.

The latest single was played as an encore. Alex listened to the electronic pulses, base and harmonics and wished it was just him and his guitar. He missed his cue and took a drink of lukewarm water. Ike, Gray and Cassian said nothing and repeated the opening bars for Alex to whisper the song rather than sing it. "Red hair like the flames haunts my dreams. Acrid smoke and recriminations in the night. Ghosts haunt me, I cannot escape. No cry for mercy can make them abate….. " He stopped and bottled the tears threatening to spill. Today the anniversary of Jack's death. "Did you guys read Harry Potter…. It's in the Chamber of Secrets and the ghosts celebrated death days. That's so fucking insane, isn't it?"

Ike stepped forward and asked "Are you taking your meds Alex?"

Alex smiled, all of it, medication, group and therapy made no difference to the pain inside. "I'm clean and sober . So, everything's OK. Sorry, I need a wee."

Alex was fumbling with the paper and cleaned up, signalling the finish to his bit of cutting, which had helped bring everything back into focus. Finish rehearsal, go to the gym for a couple of hours. Walk around Chelsea for a bit. Maybe try and write something. Repeat until tomorrows rehearsal as there was no point trying to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

It was early, 8AM and the other band members would not arrive until 10. Alex liked this building, even with the sound proofing and the fact it was sub-divided ,the space was well lit and open to the high ceiling. Two technicians were drinking mugs of tea and discussing football when Alex let himself in.

"Oh, sorry AJ, all power is off. There's an electrician in at the moment sorting out the overload problem, he should be done in forty minutes."

Alex shrugged "Came in early to go over a few ideas for a new composition on the piano, the place I'm staying at doesn't have one."

With a bottle of water in his hand, Alex grabbed sheets of manuscript paper and a pen from the office and went into the main space to see a guy in blue overalls on his side, facing the wall, fiddling with the fuse box. "Hi, there, I'm just here to use the piano. Let me know if I'm distracting you." Alex stated in his Californian drawl.

"Sure, mate. No bother." Without looking round the electrician, who was still concentrating on the job at hand, completely dismissing the musician.

The Steinway was a real beauty compared to the Yamaha keyboard Alex normally played. His place did not have the room even for a baby grand. He limbered up with several scales and then two pieces memorised from past piano lessons. He then picked out the melody in his head. It had been a while since he had written anything for keyboard. He sang the first verse he had scrawled on the back of an envelope. He really needed Cassian to embellish this with his effortless reworking of Alex's basic melody. He was scribbling down notation, when the electrician finished and came forward to explain the problem.

The slim and short electrician with short dark hair and large nose was wiping his hands on the front of his overalls before, as he went to hand the clipboard with his work sheet for signing. "Righty-o, bit of a nightmare, but all sorted now. How you didn't have a fire I don't know considering the ampage of your kit. Can you sign or do I go to one of the techs out front?"

Alex looked up, signed the work sheet and smiled immediately recognising his old friend, "Good to see you, Tom. How's things?"

Tom Harris frowned as he stared at the pianist. "Err, sorry, but who are you?"

Alex was wearing his usual rock star disguise of overlarge wrap around dark glasses, he pulled them off and introduced himself "Its Alex, Alex Pleasure now, but "

"Freakin' 'ell, Alex Rider! Shit, I guess I owe you a million apologies about loosing touch, but I got most of my stuff nicked in sixth form and had to change my accounts and as a result I lost your details. So the adopted went through OK. Last thing I remember was you telling me was you had cold feet about it."

"I last wrote to you was after camp that summer, when I confessed that me and Cassian were more than just mates and you never wrote back. I thought you stopped communicating because I was gay."

Tom's eye was drawn to the message board on the wall, covered with the song order for rehearsals. "Wait a mo, Cassian James and AJ Pleasure as in The Forgotten Heroes, that's you? How come you wear sunglasses on all the promos? Are SCORPIA still after you?"

"Yeah, so want to catch up? You free for lunch?"

"Lunch? Still on American time? Its 9:45 in the morning. Bacon buttie, yeah maybe. There's a toptastic café across on Borough Road."

….

Cassian arrived at 10:15 to see the mess of Alex's notes on the piano, which he started playing. He musing that it was a good hook and the lyrics were obscurely about drowning. There was a nice smiley face on a post it note on the notice board. 'Gone for brunch with the electrician, may be some time. Apologies to the guys. See you around 11 or so. AJ'. That was most strange as Alex, never did casual or pick ups. Nor did Alex have any school friends he kept in contact with in London. Maybe it was a friend of Karl's.

The three had short band meeting and Cassian, as usual, had drawn the short straw to talk sense into Alex, as all three were worried about their guitarist and his strange behaviour. Everything was pointing to the fact their friend was heading for a breakdown.

….

Alex had left Tom with his mobile and email. No longer close friends, just one time school friends. Too much time had passed to pick up from the distance between them in 2003. Neither had tried to reconnect in the intervening years. His old friend was married, still living in Chelsea, in his mum's flat. She remarried and relocated to southern Spain. Nothing in common anymore.

Alex arrived after his version of a builders breakfast, consisting of fried eggs, beans, mushroom, tomato and fried bread, all covered with brown sauce. All probably contaminated with sausage and bacon grease but it had tasted divine. Back at work, only Cass was there, playing with an arrangement of his new song, slow and melancholy.

"Hi, I'm not that late, am I?"

"No, guys have gone for a second breakfast themselves. Its just, snap out of this funk, Lexie. We need you on the ball and you being a prima donna is not helping your case over our new recording contracts."

Alex stood still, of course out of everything the band came first and the shitty, underhand tactics of the record company was driving a wedge between Alex and his best friend. "I'm fine. Spoke to Rachel this morning on schedule. Any problems over the contracts is handled by Daisy as you know. I trust her implicitly."

"Come of it, Al. The Sony deal is a peach, just sign the fucking contract, I think Daisy is crazy if she thinks she'll get more out of them. Are you playing hard ball over royalties or something? You have never wanted sole rights over band songs, its all split four ways, fair and square."

"Is it really? There I'm being delusional again thinking you would always fight my corner and be willing to hear me out first, but no, money talks doesn't it and its Gray whose making all the money now. Do you want to actually know the reason Daisy is playing hard ball or are you going to bail on our management team because Gray think's its a good idea?"

With a hard stare at Alex over the brushed aside statement that he was fit and well and this was not his problem. "Bullshit, 10 million up front each, its double what any one of the other megacorps are offering for the five album deal including a greatest hits compilation and two live documentaries. The royalty deal is a four way split, so what is the problem, pissy pants. Want your name first on the publishing rights? What gives?"

Alex knew he was meant to play along with the inter-band difficulties but was sick of being the odd man out. "Henderson offered me 2 million up front not 10, because of my medical difficulties. Daisy says we split the difficulties four ways or I sign for the same deal as you guys. The Sony bastard's best buddies with Gray, telling him I'm being difficult. To fucking right I am, I joined this band when I was mentally ill, its not going away and I manage OK 90% of the time. You know I have bumps along the road, but I will not be treated as a second class citizen, not when I wrote nine of out nineteen singles and 40% of the songs on our albums. Oh, I'll accept the pissy 2mill deal, but I get 100% of all royalties on my songs. Thats the shit I've left Daisy to deal with."

"This is true?" Cassian could not believe Gray would lie to him and the fact was Alex was a professional liar.

"Do you think I'd lie about this? I was never in the band for money. I'd rather go with another independent company for peanuts than deal with sharks like Henderson at Sony. Why do you think he's been negotiating with us all individually not as a band, because he wants me out and I'm a hairsbreadth away from walking and I know Gray is wanting to give me a push. Its common knowledge that he'e been auditioning guys to replace me. All reported last month in NME and the bastard has not had the balls to deny it." Alex was beyond upset about that. "Fuck you Cass, I clean up my act, jump through hoops and you lot are cold to me and get pissy when I'm 110% professional. Ike was three hours late for rehearsals last week, with no polite get your act together talk for him." Alex had months of bad blood and resentment bottled up. He hurt deep in his chest, deep throbbing pain. He was suddenly dizzy and could not stop himself abruptly sitting on the floor. It was just panic, only it wasn't. Alex already analysing his situation, he was angry, adrenaline and high blood pressure. He grabbed his left arm due to the sharp stabbing pain. "Chest and arm pains on my left hand side. Fuck, Cass. This is bad." The pain came crashing down and Alex fought to remain conscious.

Case had watched as Alex had gone from apocalyptically angry to grey and pained. This was not an act and the school friend was well aware that Alex had just survived a bullet wound to the chest at fourteen and had regular check ups for his heart and pulmonary system as well as his reduced kidney function. "Sit up, Lexie. I'll move this chair so you can lean against it. I'm going to phone for an ambulance."

Calm and collected the tall dark Californian listed Alex's medical history and current medication to the paramedic. "I can promise you he's clean and sober and perfectly lucid. He's vomited twice but he had a large breakfast this morning, he told me a full on greasy spoon special. He had major surgery on his chest and abdomen in 2002 following multiple gunshot wounds at High School. Patch on his pulmonary artery and he's lost 10% of his right kidney function. He was stabbed two years ago, but only needed minor surgery. Burns and a broken ankle at fifteen as well. He's in so much pain."

Alex was taking deep gulps of gas and air, not wanting morphine or ketamine. He closed his eyes trying to keep calm and let everything wash over him. "Very low blood pressure…. pulmonary edema …. cardiogenic shock….HEMS here in two minutes."

…..

Grayson Degrassi looked at his phone as his car stopped in heavy traffic. The driver spoke "Its only a five minute walk from here, looks like there's blue lights ahead and I may be stuck here for some time."

"No hurry, I'm waiting for an all clear phone call before rehearsals anyway."

It was Ike who called first. "What's up, Ike?"

"Its just to tell you rehearsals are cancelled for the foreseeable future. Alex has collapsed. The full medical emergency here, doctor's transfusing him and babbling about internal bleeding and they need to put in a drain in to re-inflate his collapsed lung. His heart is being monitored closely as his blood pressure is dropping. As soon as he's stabilised he's going to a trauma centre. Cassian thinks the patch on his pulmonary artery has leaked. Your plan on freezing Alex out to get him to sign with Sony in spite of his reservations has backfired. I'm driving Cass to King's College Hospital. Don't worry Daisy is aware of everything."

…..

The two musicians waited in the family waiting room, when a trauma consultant laid down the full facts, bulmia/anorexia, over exercising, stress, insomnia and self harm had led to severe stress on Alex's body especially his cardiopulmonary system and the high blood pressure had caused a strain on the patch on his damaged artery, a tear filling his chest cavity with fluid leading to a cardiac arrest. Their friend was in surgery now.

Casaian sat forward with his head in his hands, feeling the weight of a series of decisions that had failed Alex in the long run. "We caused this. I knew Alex was out of control last year, but he gave up drinking without a fight. He pushed everyone away so subtly, Karl, me, even his family. He had cuts all over his arms when the paramedics undressed him. Who knows what he got up to with that electrician this morning. Al has never been into casual hook ups. Hell, he only has a handful of people he trusts. A list getting shorter by the day. I have no idea where he was even staying, just some place in Chelsea."

Ike looked sheepish, "Chelsea Harbour, your friend Paul's place."

Putting the facts together, "Hell, no. He hasn't blown off Karl and gone running back to Roscoe. I don't fucking believe he was that stupid."

Ike shook his head "He and Karl are still something, not living together, not exes. Alex told Debs it was just with recording and touring, easier to meet up on the road. After the tour they were planning to go travelling. India, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam. Fuck, I'm an idiot, I forgot to phone Karl."


	20. Chapter 20

Alex was aware that his trolley was moving. Then the twenty-seven year old former spy heard the familiar thick Scouse accent of Ben Daniels "Keep quiet and still, Cub. All going to plan so far. Moving you to a safer location." Last night the CIA had informed Alex of a contract out on him and it was no longer safe to be AJ Pleasure. This mornings events had just played into the plan perfectly, especially the argument with Cassian. Better to keep five steps ahead of the opposition than wind up dead.

The patient took stock of his current condition, there was no medical equipment only a drip and oxygen. The corridors eerily deserted for a major NHS hospital trauma department. Obviously all the staff distracted for a bit of spookiness as their route out was deserted to the service entrance, as they disembarked in a disguised transit van.

Inside the van, a doctor and nurse reattached monitors and were busy checking their patients vital signs.

Groggily Alex complained that his supposed fake illness felt real. "Fuck, Ben, the drug was meant to simulate a pulmonary problems and a heart attack, I feel worse than when I was shot!"

"Its OK, the paramedics did CPR, so your ribs will be bruised. Just to let you know the records will state you were transferred by air ambulance to Germany. Dieter Sprintz's staff will be handling all your media and running interference."

The nameless doctor then spoke "Morning, Cub, just giving you a sedative to make you more comfortable, your heart rate is a bit high."

…

Alex woke to the familiar sound of an Army base, muffled shouts of instructors, bellows of the sergeants and distant gunfire. As a patient who had been given one hell of a mickey yesterday, he assumed he was not alone and asked "Brecon?"

"Right in one, Cub. You must be hungry after being out for fourteen hours. It'll be porridge, eggs, toast and juice in a mo. We've been informed you don't eat meat. First a nice drink of water, as I bet you're parched as well."

The nurse had a shock of longish dark hair, the non regulation haircut a true sign of an SAS operative, was not known to Alex, far too young to have been here in 2001.

"Small sips, mate. Excellent. Doc will be here to give you the once over asap."

The young doctor was brusk, no-nonsense and efficient. He looked over the sheet of vials from when the patient was sedated and then a quick check up took less than five minutes. "Good, good. Just to let you know your vitals are excellent. Everything working just as it should. Now, the rules. Up and about today, as your catheter will be removed after breakfast. Eat your rations. Your notes state you have a series of a nasty control issues. Our psychiatrist will be here at 11 to assess you. Easy does it today, small walks should cause no problems, you should be back to your old self in no time. I'll be back at teatime to give you the once over again. If everything is OK, you follow Scott's, Craig's, Evan's or Jonty's directions, thats the nursing team here at the moment."

…..

The patient was in the small base hospital, little different from the sparse cabin he had shared with K-unit. After everything, he was back under MI6's dubious protection.

Three other beds in the cabin, luckily none of the others occupied. Breakfast was due any minute, not something he was looking forward to, considering the grunts ate at the crack of dawn and it was nearly nine.

Alex thought back to waking up in St. Dominic's. He felt much worse in his old age from his bit of a turn than nearly dying. At least there was five star food in the private hospital, here he had to lump army rations. He lifted up his arms and flexed his fingers. All seemed to be in order, not that he was at all sure that he would be up thwarting a kidnapping in days like last time. He was still a target. He dare not consider that he was binned from performing as as a musician. The real nightmare was being forced to live the rest of his life hiding, keeping three steps ahead of the bullet with his name on. Playing games had got him in this hospital bed in the first place. He had only gone with the plan to keep those he loved safe, but that left him alone and digging himself into a hole. Keep it up SCORPIA would not need to pay for an assassin, he'd do something really stupid.

Alex remembered the nurses name badge, "Hi, Scott is my phone about? I need to talk to my better half."

"Sure, I wish I had one of those iPhones. Bet you've got some great music on it."

Alex did not tell the soldier that his phone and his husband's were state of the art Roscoe Industries' custom specials and had cost over £25 grand each. No one could hack his messages and all calls had full encryption. Paul had a small production line of these beauties.

Karl had been waiting for the call. He was staying in the villa belonging to Anya in Mykonos. Instead of enjoying the sunshine, blue seas, the restaurants and bars, the tall Dane was in enforced isolation, waiting to hear that his husband was fine. After a sleepless night, his phone had eventually rung the right number. "How are you, beautiful? Don't say fine!"

Alex relaxed down into the bed and smiled that he had just been called beautiful by the one person that truly saw him, "My day just got better, speaking to you. I wish I was with you. Our reunion will be soon I promise."

"It better be, because I'm finding this all extremely stressful, but at least I know what's going on. The newspapers have all printed a real horror story over your cardiac arrest, I thought it was meant to be fake. There was a press conference at the hospital saying your control issues had exasperated your underlying heart and circulatory problems. Debs, Ike and Cassian have left me a million messages. Your mom and dad were on TV stating that their good friend Dieter Sprintz is providing the best care for you. None of us allowed to know where you're actually hiding."

"Somewhere really safe. Sorry, I could not phone earlier as I was sedated for most of yesterday. I'm bruised and battered, but my heart and arteries are fine. The drug just mimicked symptoms and the spooks staged the readouts and the HEMS doctor gave me the antidote to stop my symptoms once we were in the ambulance. Chances are AJ Pleasure is going into permanent retirement. I don't want to contemplate anything more than that, but shit happens." Alex sighed. "I'll be on my feet after Breakfast. No more acting like a froot loop, I will be a good boy, I promise."

"You better. I will phone your family and friends to say I've spoken to you and that you are on the mend. Speak to you tomorrow."

…

Cassian arrived at the rehearsal studios to see an unwelcome guest sat drinking coffee. "Look what the cat dragged in? I take it you've been to see Lexie. How is he?"

Paul Roscoe smiled and shrugged. "Karl phoned me. Lexie is fine and will be up and about today. You can tell that to whoever personally, but do not trust your phone, every bastard and his dog will want the scoop of Lexie's condition."

"What's really going on? There is no way Alex would have been transferred anywhere yesterday considering what the paramedics were saying. Was it all bullshit?" Cassian wondered at what point he had been cut out of the loop and was no longer trusted by Alex.

"I guess you deserve the truth. Some nut, a SCORPIA affiliate, has surfaced and has been leaking stuff to the press and generally making life difficult for Mr Friend. My legal team has buried the story on Point Blanc in litigation. Tomorrow the New York Post is printing the expose on my and Lexie's affair. Usual sleaze with a grain of truth. Edward told me the Guardian has been handed files on Herod Sayle and he's about to break the teen agent story, not naming Alex; but the cat is out of the bag. The CIA informed Edward of the threat last month and that's the reason everyone is elsewhere. So, the Mail's bitching that his drink and drug bingeing has forced his family and boyfriend to distance themselves is just horseshit." The blond billionaire rubbed his nose. "Alex is in hiding. If everything gets out into the open, Alex might have to disappear. Not great considering being in the band suited him."

"Not lately" the musician wondered that Lexie had pulled away to protect them. "That arsehole has been isolating us to because of hero complex."

Paul knew he could not lie to Cassian, not when the chips were down. "Yeah, we all know the CIA keeps tabs on Lexie, thats how I found our that the spooks were taking this threat seriously." Paul's paranoia paid for covert surveillance on all that affected those he loved. Joe Canterbury more than happy to keep an eye on Alex's former abusers. "So, we have to play the supportive friends to our rescuer, once the shit hits the fan. Its likely Alex may not react so well once everything is in the open. We are brothers by adversity, not blood. Remember that, as I get the feeling you put money before friendship yesterday."

"Fuck you! Did you know the record company were being shits to him? Lex only told me yesterday. I should have know something major was up as he has not been round to my place in months."

Paul blanked the outburst, he neither confirmed nor denied that he was in on anything with Alex. "It's been fantastic to catch up, I'll email any updates, when I get them. Do not hassle Karl or the Pleasures. I have to go, I have a meeting at 3."

Rather than force and argument, the Californian also switched to polite small talk. "How long are you in London, Paul?"

"Fly to Singapore tonight. After that a week or so in Thailand." He was being cold to his old friend, but Cassian should have seen through Alex's games months ago, he had. "Get contract parity and Alex will sign or get a new guitarist and lead local. You'd be fools to let Lexie go. Even if the shit hits the fan he's the best guitarist I've heard play, but I'm biased. So should you be, considering you guys are still friends with benefits."

"Not since Karl came on the scene." The dark haired Californian then moved to hug his former classmate. The simple act of touch a signal to end the rift between then. "See you round big guy."

…..

Major Terrance Pritchard was of the opinion that all who sanctioned the use of a fourteen year old boy for operations needed to be hauled over hot coals. A point of view that had hardened somewhat since meeting the young man, in question last month; who was now a troubled and very cagey twenty seven year old. This morning was their fifth session, Alex had insisted that a good working relationship based on trust was a must, before he went into hiding. Last week the doctor had been tempted to call the charade off and just persuade Alex to sign himself into hospital for a complete rest.

When he arrived , Scott cornered the psychiatrist. "He barely ate breakfast and has warned me to keep sharp objects under lock and key."

"I am aware my patient has recently been cutting. Our first priority at the moment is getting him eating regularly and sleeping unmedicated. He has suffered prolonged periods of chronic insomnia since 2002." The major then pulled off his beret and took a deep breath to calm himself. Next time he saw John Crawley or Tulip Jones he would be giving them a piece of his mind.

He knocked as he entered the hut, pleasantly surprised to see the tall blond man was sat reading, wearing borrowed army fatigues, looking completely at home. "Good Morning Alex, how are you after your ordeal yesterday."

"Sore. Really sore. Not on bed rest though. Need to be up and about." Alex looked out of the window wistfully. "Thanks for being the voice of reason, Terrance. I.. I really feel like walking away from everything, I could. Only I love music. Playing guitar was the one thing that dug me out of my depression in 2003. I feel free, alive, unburdened when I play, even in concert, once I've gotten over the absolute terror of getting on stage."

"Well, that seems to have been sorted, as Paul Roscoe sent me two guitars, an amp and a keyboard for you. All in the boot of my car outside. You can use this time not as a prison but as respite. Play, write, eat, sleep and above all get well, you deserve a break."


	21. Chapter 21

"What's the next step, doc? Do I just run off into the sunset with Karl or fight my corner to still write, play and perform?" Alex hated this limbo, full cabin fever after only two days stuck in the cabin in wet and dank Wales.

"You are treating this place as a prison. You can leave, now. You are not a prisoner and you are more than capable of managing your own escape and evade. I can drive you to Cardiff or London, if you want. Are you only seeing the walls of your room and none of the possibilities of life here. You can go running or hiking, swim in the coldest lake in the world, shoot on the range, but for starters lets go to the small officer's mess for lunch. The food is passable, not the slop they serve during training. This is an elite unit, you know."

Alex looked at the man, remembering every detail of the nasty luke warm, overcooked slop he'd eaten as a fourteen year old "Fucking hell! The food was part of the roughing up wasn't it. I thought nothing could be worse than the shit Jack cooked, but she could have added a whole new dimension of burnt to the meals served here. I honestly don't believe you that the catering is anywhere near edible, plus the fact I hate meat. Prove me wrong, Doctor T."

Terrance Pritchard had spoken to the chef and organised a simple lunch of potato and onion tortilla, watercress salad with fruit salad to follow. Simple, light and nutritious; just the thing to get one's appetite back.

With a tiny cup of turkish coffee, Alex could not believe this was the same place he had suffered in thirteen years ago. He had eaten more today than he had in months, even Karl's excellent cooking had left him feeling queazy. "I must go and offer the chef triple pay to come to America and feed me full time. Food like that three times a day and I'll be as fat as Sabina was at nine months gone."

A stocky and bald, Colonel Owen Davis was the Commanding Officer of Special Air Service. He had been a member of M Unit in 2001 and had heard all the rumours and had now read the cold hard facts about Cub, AKA Alex Rider and AJ Pleasure. The teen spy had grown up to be a rock star. His fifteen year old son had tickets for their cancelled tour, the soldier had to admit he thought the present album was edgy, reminding him of U2 in their heyday.

"Afternoon, Major, Cub. I fear I might have missed lunch." The Colonel sat to make conversation with his old friend and the enigma that was MI6's youngest ever agent.

"Your chef is the best!" Alex stated cheerfully. "Its like being back at Paul's place in New York. He ordered in from Michelin restaurants like it was McD's. One aspect of living with that paranoid bastard that I miss. Still, we both moved on and are better as friends than lovers."

The colonel stored that bit of information, as Paul Roscoe was Roscoe Industries, a major player in the world of telecommunications and encryption, a man rich enough to buy whole countries.

…..

Lying in the cabin after another excellent meal in the officers mess, Alex wondered on his father's career path of army, paratrooper, SAS then MI6 Special Operations. His uncle had wanted to force Alex to be the mirror image of his father. What would John have made of Alex the musician or Alex the fairy. With stealth, the tall guest moved and opened the window. After checking the way was clear he climbed over the sill and went to find the sergeant who had named him Cub, the man he had observed was still training here.

Harry Dixon was career army instructor, after two tours with the SAS. He would see through one more intake, this winter then return to Yorkshire, where he planned to retire. He was finishing the tedium of paperwork, when there was a soft knock on the door of his office. "Enter" was barked as he hated being disturbed during his supposed down time.

He did not recognise the blond haired man who entered but surmised this was the man being babysat by medical.

Alex could see the man was not party to the identity of the special guest. He smiled and apologised in a London accent. "Sorry to disturb you, Sergeant. I was hoping we could catch up. Back in 2001, you called me Cub and my life story made it into the papers yesterday."

The super fit forty year old could see this was Cub grown up. "Take a pew. What's your poison, beer, tea or whisky? We'll need lubrication to catch up, a lot has happened in the thirteen years since you darkened my door."

…..

Scott joined as his assignment on a run, as Alex had decided to get fitter, upgrade his skills and use his time in Wales positively. Special Operations was a young man's game and Alex was supposed to be in his prime, only he wasn't. The doctor in London had been right stating his control issues had been killing him slowly. With his new life plan, exercise, nutrition and rest was as important as love, sex and music. Alex noted Scott was barely out of heath and he was exhausted to the point of collapsing.

"Don't overdo it, Cub. Try and take deep slow breaths in to regulate your breathing, then we can jog back at a comfortable pace."

"Bit different to the old treadmill in the gym." Alex gasped.

"Well, the great outdoors is not compatible with agoraphobia. You have been sticking to studio, rehearsal and where ever you happen to be staying. Keeping to controlled environments. Even here, this is no different, in the middle of MOD controlled army base, surrounded by wilderness. You prefer to stay in the cabin. You got to get out enjoy living. Carpe Diem." The nurse was fully aware of the plan to get this semi recluse to relax and live a little.

"I know. I need to surf and ski more, maybe take up diving and rock climbing again. I loved all that as a kid. I stopped living because of the pain, the guilt, the horrors, everything tainted by it. Even, music is a fucking control issue. It was meant to help me, it has helped, but the big question is it holding me back or am I just addicted to it. I need to practice, crave it, it soothes and consumes. Even now I'm writing songs in my head. Who is real Alex… AJ…. Lexie…..Cub?"

…..

Five months had passed since the news broke that AJ Pleasure, was a teenage spy blackmailed by the MI6 Black Ops Unit to bring down Herod Sayle, saving tens of thousands from the deadly biological weapon in 2001. Sparse details emerged of other operations in France, Cuba, Russia, Thailand, Australia and finally Egypt. None of his band mates had seen nor spoken to their guitarist. His social media accounts suspended, his family living in Australia.

Finally, a band meeting had been arranged with Lost and Alone Records to clear the air and try to salvage the five record deal either with or without AJ as part of the band. As the criminal investigation had arrested and charged one of their employees with conspiracy to murder, contract fraud and embezzlement. The takeover deal with Sony had fallen though as a result of the bad publicity.

Gray was pacing the floor of the small conference room in Seattle, anxiously waiting for Alex, to apologise in person for trusting the wrong guy, for becoming a money-man, for failing his sister's hero.

Daisy had arrived 10 minutes ago with two lawyers, which gave the impression Alex was going to sue rather than talk. The meeting about to start when a delivery of coffee and buns arrived. A very muscled delivery man with dark long hair, geeky glasses and big nose was carrying the tray of goodies.

All the cups inscribed with nicknames, True Hero went to Ike, Impossible Princess to Daisy, Igg and Ook to the two lawyers, Cloned Imposter to Cassian, Big Bad Wolf to Gray and an additional cup for the Compulsive Liar as the stranger sat down and pulled off the spectacles, fake nose and wig, "Hi Guys! Miss me."

…

Alex could see the crowd from the platform where he was waiting for his cue. Dressed in black riot gear, about to abseil onto the stage, his flack jacket printed emblazoned with 'LIAR'. He had spent half his life being lied to and then justifying it all by lying to himself. Again the band were one unit, writing together, communicating and the new album was a collaboration of all, not the usual of Alex being more marionette than maestro. The guitars to be played tonight all new, untouched, not objects of obsession. Everything had been laid bare when the story of the teen agent broke, AJ Pleasure had been the boy who saved the word several times. Then, forced into hiding by death threats. He had done what his uncle had ingrained, reinvented himself, spent months with Karl reevaluating everything.

Now the whole sordid affair was known to everyone. Blackmail, fear, pain, death, guilt, loss and devastation revealing a broken child, not a hero. Never a hero, it grated that the stupid and vapid thought he was 'the forgotten hero'… it was heroes. It had always eluded to the ones with no voice, the dead. Sabina had once ranted at length during a school debate on the ideal of the glorious dead, when there was no glory in either war nor death.

If Alex had to choose, it was Ike who was the hero. The quiet, unassuming drummer who had been a friend to an absolute stranger out of kindness.

The singer and guitarist no longer feared the crowd and exposure of his lies and halftruths. Life was not just existing, a banality, being in the open was an act of bravado, of standing proud and living without fear.

There had been no pre publicity to this show, rumours had circulated of a new line up. The music press siding with hate and derision for the replacement of 'the hero'. The band had changed both in style and outlook. A raw, instrument driven sound, a personal album, self produced, mixed and recorded, not in state of the art facilities but their homes. From the cusp of being a mega band to this small venue at Austin, similar to their first tour as a support act. Ike's dream of a small venue tour was underway ahead of the release of an album, no singles, the videos just the band playing during recording.

Alex was not the same AJ that had gone into hiding. His change influenced by the freedom not having to hide or deny his past. He had done four interviews, two in the States and two in Britain and had been open about his past and that he was very much not a spy and had only been involved reluctantly. The worst consequence of full disclosure had been the grilling from the Senate Committee. He had stuck with his opinion that the security services all partook of black operations, he understood that and his use in such operations had saved thousands of lives. Yes he was damaged both physically and mentally, but he was a survivor, a boy trained for this by his late uncle. The blame laid not at the CIA's door but with Ian Rider and Alan Blunt.

He knew life was change. His parent's still living in Australia. He and Karl living inMalibu bit planning on moving back to Denmark and relative anonymity. His band mates back being close friends. He was fit and well, relaxed and happy; taking each day as a blessing.


	22. Chapter 22

The acerbic blond female presenter, was dressed like a model in this season's designer separates, she was standing and spoke to camera as the show went live on air. 'Tonight on Newsnight we are joined by Edward Pleasure and his adopted son, AJ the child operative used by MI6."

Alex rankled at the incorrect forename, as AJ had never been the spy and he was mostly Alex again. He had used AJ as a safe haven, a personality constructed from the shattered remains left after Cairo; but that facade was no more. He no longer had to lie and deny his true self. With full disclosure he had nothing to hide anymore. Years in therapy had helped smooth out the jarring shards of himself, but mostly to bury the aspects of a programmed assassin/killer. Alex was back in the driving seat and aware of his alters and finally managing his borderline/dissociative identity disorder without the need of control issues muddying the waters.

He listened to the news headlines and pondered the Christmas Episode three years ago, which had been the scariest of them all, when he had totally forgotten friends, family, music and himself, in his bid to start anew. The closest he had come to morphing into the man shaped by Ian, Blunt and SCORPIA, living with a completely fluid personality and no empathy or remorse. He often pondered if he would still be surfing on the Big Sur, living hand to mouth, sharing himself with the group of surfers totally unaware of his past, if he had not seen that news broadcast and returned to a life where they had already presumed him dead.

He looked at Edward and smiled weakly, his father knowing he was out of his comfort zone with this public outing. The journalist whispered "I'll be fine Alex. They'll keep to the agreed questions, I promise."

He listened in as the journalist spoke to camera of the his past.

"Edward, you broke the full story of your adopted son, used and abused by our security services in 2001 and 2002. Many were shocked by this disclosure when the previous leaks had not named AJ?"

Edward smiled "We were aware of the leaks and who was behind them. Choosing to come clean meant we could manage the damage control with the security services rather than always be on the back foot".

"How does these revelations affect your music career, AJ?"

"The guys in the band knew the basic facts, not all the grisly details. I loosely said I had arrived in San Francisco as part of Witness Protection. Gray's dad guessed a lot considering I could handle myself in a way no ordinary teenager should. Ike and Cats both knew what hd happened before the High School incident caused my mental health issues."

"Both you and your sister survived the shooting at San Mateo just months after the MI6 debacle in Cairo. Did your breakdown then lead you to reject your training and excellent operation record?"

"I never wanted to be a spy. Right from the start I told the recruiter I wanted to be a footballer."

The woman then turned to Edward, "Your articles have fleshed out the sparse details leaked last month, but you do not name anyone. Is that because a censure of the Official Secrets Act?"

Edward looked calm and collected as he reaffirmed his position, "I gave Alex's side of the story. MI6 were using the asset groomed by Alex's uncle. The facts points to an MI6 undercover operative training a child to be the perfect covert operative. This story is about child abuse, using psychological conditioning and the targeting of a skill set for that purpose. Alex chose to excel as a guitarist and singer to be more than his uncle's puppet."

"AJ, how did you cross paths with MI6?"

Alex corrected the presenter before answering "Its Alex, not AJ… not now, maybe not again. So, to answer your question, birth father and his brother worked for MI6. Not that I knew this at fourteen before he died. I thought he was a boring businessman working for a bland multinational as a manager of overseas accounts."

The woman looked at Edward, she had been briefed about her interviewee's dissociative identity disorder, but was surprised by his affirmation of his alters at the opening of this live interview. "How would you describe your relationship with MI6?"

"I was backed into a corner with their use of a big stick and not very much carrot. Any abused child is in the situation of trying to cope with blackmail, pain and lies. It was role my uncle had been preparing me for." Alex smiled, "I have escaped that path because of my wonderful family. Its taken their unflinching support to keep me well."

…

After flying from Greece to Bristol on a package flight, the Dane drove across the Severn Bridge and into Wales in his rental car. The Brecon Beacons were shrouded in Low Cloud as he stopped at the Star Inn pub in Tal-y-Bont, as instructed by his secretive husband. Miles of nothing but farms, sheep and the desolate National Park. The bleak weather meant the only other car parked was a black BMW 7 series at 4 in the afternoon.

By the bar was Dr. Pritchard dressed in army fatigues and his medical corp beret. "Good afternoon, Mr. Sigurdsson. Welcome to Wales."

With a firm handshake, the tall brunette was pleased to see the Psychiatrist Alex had been seeing in London prior to all this cloak and dagger secrecy. "Please call me Karl. How is Alex?" Enquired the worried Dane of his husband, wondering if he would get any straight answers now Alex was under official protection.

"Considering the possibilities and the stress of both his outing by the press and being back here under guard, he is surprisingly buoyant, though I think he has bounced back into operations mode. He's determined to get his fitness back, eating well, sleeping regularly with only a few nightmares and he's practicing both guitar and piano but not writing." The doctor's body language was relaxed, as he sipped his fruit juice.

Doing for the jugular. Karl asked "Is he still cutting?"

"No, that has stopped, but we have removed the means and opportunity. I believe the anticipation of full disclosure was worse than the actual articles in the press, which has been sympathetic with his entrapment. Everyone who knew Alex well, knew certain details anyway. The British and American governments can lay the blame at Alan Blunt's door and are spinning their stories accordingly. We here at Breacon were not aware of his youth at the time, nor the fact he was going to be used as an undercover agent, not just set dressing. The Regiment are keen to make up for our past failings. He's an honorary member of Special Forces and we look after our own." The doctor did not tell this civilian that Alex had been helping with sniper and close combat training and had given a lecture on his time at special operations. Both had been very enlightening.

Karl ordered a coffee and a steak sandwich, as he had not eaten on the plane. "He's not in danger of forgetting himself again, that's what he fears the most."

"No, sign of any disassociation. He's looking forward to seeing you. Do not worry his alter was deeply buried by months of work by Rachel." The doctor had spoken to his counterpart in San Francisco, who had diagnosed and treated Alex's Borderline and Dissociative Identity Disorder for over ten years.

Karl sighed and his busy, full work schedule meant he only had five days free with his partner, then he was back on tour in the Far East for four weeks. Edward was due back in England on Friday. "Will Alex be able to join me at the end of next month in Bangkok as we planned?'

"I see no problem with that. I think your plan of a prolonged holiday, with friends and family away from the States and the UK is just what Alex needs. Though I would steer clear of Bangkok, maybe just keep to the tourist hubs on the coast. Bad associations. His parent's want to meet him in New Zealand not Australia for the same reasons." The doctor asked his own very personal question. "Are you aware of Alex's alter?"

"Yeah… I noticed peculiarities before Alex told me about his condition. AJ is like the public persona, full on Alex only emerges when he trusts you and are like two sides of Alex that are there day to day. Lexi is what he calls himself in bed. The soldier, him in full disassociation, I have only met briefly when he's half asleep after a particularly awful nightmare." Karl always felt the rarely seen soldier aspect of Alex was him at his most lost and broken.

The doctor had waited for the barman to leave them to their conversation, busy waiting for his first diners booked for the restaurant at 6. "Its no plain sailing, as you know. Alex's personality seems to have shifted into a more operations mode, as his dominant personality has absorbed the musician and the hurt child aspects. He seems to have made a positive leap forward. We need to closely monitor this change and pray its not the calm before the storm."

….

Karl watched his husband spar at the dojo in Kyoto. Alex had stopped hiding his abilities, pretending to be something he wasn't and had introduced the Dane to his love of and skill at sports, especially karate, diving, skiing and surfing. They had even been rowing together on the lake at Eton. His husband had taken up weight and endurance training like he was born for it. The workouts showed on Alex's body as he had started to eat properly and gained weight as muscle. Karl would be the first to admit the new look suited Alex, perfectly matched by the glowing tan they both sported from four weeks beach and island hopping in Thailand.

Alex bowed to his partner after an amazing bout. The sensei had proved that Alex still had moves to learn and strategies to master. He had diligently kept up with his katas, something he was glad he had, as he knew there would always be the threat of assassination now everyone was fully aware he had been an MI6 operative.

Alex wanted to stay longer in Japan, but they were flying to Wellington tomorrow, where Liz and Edward were renting a home in the suburbs for the next six months. James, Sabina and Milly were already there. His brother in law had hinted that they may relocate as well due to the fantastic facilities, friendly and welcoming atmosphere and promise of safety and anonymity. Liz loved New Zealand more than California and the media storm over Alex meant she was glad to leave Malibu. Alex had rented his house there out and was considering selling, to live in Copenhagen permanently, as no one bothered him even when he was recognised.

He had a month before he needed to make decisions. He really did not care if his involvement with the band stopped. It had been good, but the last album had been a real chore and if he never toured again that was fine. He could still play at home, write and record tracks to his simple and very stripped bare taste.

As he exited the changing area, Alex turned to Karl and stated, "I could do with a hot bath and a massage after that."

"How about we return to the hotel for a lazy afternoon and ordering up room service for dinner. I will give you a full massage." To emphasise his real intentions Karl waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Only if you promise to eat the sushi off me." They were staying in the imperial suite of the Radisson Hyatt, a bit of a honeymoon moment.

The next morning, in departures, Alex scanned the international press before boarding and chuckled at the nasty tabloid which had concluded AJ Pleasure was broke, paranoid and living rough since as he had donated large sums to charity and financed Holly's film production company. It was true he had given away and spent almost all of his inheritance from Ian. That Blood money was one thing he no longer needed as he had made more than enough for his needs working and his royalty payments on his songs meant he would never need to write another hit and still bank more than most people earned. A point in fact was the radio in the shop was playing Anya's latest single, a song he had co-written with the megastar last year. He was only one if a team she had working for her. He listened as she sang his verse on loneliness and was glad that was one thing he need not fear as Karl was determined not to suffer any enforced separations again.

The photo of him in the press was from his day trip to Teighmouth several weeks ago, after his Newsnight interview and before going on holiday. He had been suffering from a cold and been wearing Karl's coat. He had to admit he did look more hobo than rock star.


	23. Chapter 23

Alex lay on his back floating in Ike's pool, looking up at the stars. He had left his friends arguing. Luckily, Debs and the kids were in San Mateo visiting her folks and it was just the band supposedly writing material for the new album in the seclusion of Topanga. However for the past two days had been spent with Ike and Alex hanging out, as the pianist and bass player disagreed over the concept, sound and feel of the next album. Cassian had put forward his ideal of a more esoteric vibe based on a more electronic sound; which had sounded great to Alex; who was bringing Ike round to that ideal. It was Grayson who wanted to keep the traditional rock band sound, not venturing into avenues new to alienate their fanbase. It was 8pm on Friday and Alex had a feeling nothing he had written while travelling was remotely suitable. The lovely bubble of just Karl, Alex and his close family had been a million miles from work and his near nervous breakdown. It had been five months since the teen spy story had broken and Alex had assumed everything would be easier as he was no longer hiding behind lies and the restrictions of the Official Secrets Act.

Alex pondered doing laps, but lethargy was winning after a week of arguments and procrastination. He pondered his own prolonged silences, unwilling to butt in and to fight his corner. Did he not care? He would go with the flow. Nothing had changed in the past nine months. He was passive, hiding, to used to being a complete doormat when challenged by artistic decisions. What had happened to the sarcastic teenager? That had been lies. In truth, he'd been Ian's little suck up, then Blunt's weapon. His one attempt at running had led right back to MI6. Here he was at twenty-eight and he was still a puppet. He swam to the edge and pulled himself out with ease. Wrapping a towel around himself he strode back into the den unashamed in his nakedness beneath. His acoustic guitar on the sofa next to Ike. He picked his old friend up and strummed out three contrasting melodies over complex broken chords.

He closed his eyes and sang softly "I lie all the time. I lie to myself most of all. The Liar is telling you everything's OK, but the cover up started long ago. Everything is false. My words, my goals, my love, my friendship are distorted by the masks I always wear." Alex continued to play his bridge into the chorus "Liar, Liar.. lie about the past..Liar, Liar…lie about us…Liar Liar…Lie about the pain….Liar Liar … lie about medicating my fears away."

Alex then stopped and tried to explain "Call the album duality. Stripped down simplicity with another remix album done with full bells and whistles by Cassian. We don't have to do one or the other, lets do both."

Ike smirked at the simple solution to a week of agro. "I vote for that and Liar being the new single… classical guitar… double base and something unusual for keyboard… not synth… maybe harpsichord."

"Full on Divine Comedy, no… jazz; either ragtime or blues piano. Yeah. So, Boss Is that our working plan?" Cassian added.

Grayson nodded "Full rehearsals next week, no more bull shitting around. Everyone bring four or five songs to work through. My place Monday, brunch at 11?"

….

The first thing the spy turned musician noted was that Suki's on Mulholland was jumping, there was a queue of fifty waiting to get in. Alex had parked two blocks over and rather than turn around, he decided to bite the bullet and walked straight up to the bouncer and for once use the I'm famous card to cut in. He had dressed for the occasion, needing to blend into the in crowd as he was wearing this seasons designer originals. An outfit bought with his mother acting as stylist in Wellington only four weeks ago. He was only venturing out as he needed to hear just how different Cassian's current mixology was to the previous band sound. The reclusive guitarist would have preferred to have been with his partner, but Karl was back in Europe working. The whole idea of night clubs was foreign ,considering the very sheltered life AJ had lead post MI6. Even so, the bouncer smiled at the approaching VIP, as his whole demeanour changed from cold and aloof to welcoming. The guy had quickly texted ahead for the management to escort the guest straight to his friend up front.

"Good Evening, Mr. Pleasure. Its an honour to meet you."

Alex had already made a note of the guys ID and tattoos, "Hi, Mike… call me Alex. Just popping in to hear Cassian's set. Is anyone else in I should be aware of?"

"Kassi's here with several friends. No other VIP's, but hopefully a few more mutual friends later. Cassian is on after midnight. Lulu will show you through to the guest area."

Considering his bad boy reputation with excessive drinking and recreational drug use, Alex had always steered clear of organised events and night clubs. Private houses and small bars, hanging with friends on the beach or in restaurants. He had never picked up one night stands or just gone dancing. Even when he used, he'd bought his supplies off friends and acquaintances and had never had a dealer on speed dial.

The hostess chatted nervously over the pounding music. Alex wondered if this young woman was one of Cassian's many conquests as his friend still shied away from all forms of relationship. He guessed not as Cass was sensible enough not to shit in his own backyard and he part owned this club. "You worked with Cass long?" Alex asked, making small talk.

"Six months, since this place opened. He's wonderful to work for. I like working the VIP area. Great perks as I get invited to parties, so its improved my social life. Although there have been no actual offers of acting work; like 99% of people here I want to be a film star, but I'm happy enough working. It sure beats being on the breadline."

"I'm sure it does. Its good to work with your friends and stardom is not as great as its made out to be when you get hassled buying groceries or going for a run. Its too easy to hide." Alex hated that aspect of life now, when he had a housekeeper to stock his cupboards and to arrange the day to day upkeep of his house. In three months he'd be living a normal life in Denmark.

The back room hospitality suite for performers was small, cosy and thankfully quieter than the public areas of the club. Cassian was sat with his back to the door entertaining a group of young women, chilled champagne on ice.

Alex smiled and walked over and kissed his surprised best friend in greeting "Hey, babe."

"Good to see you Lexie. What's the occasion?" Cassian was perplexed as Alex would normally be sat a home watching a worthy documentary on BBC America or Facetiming his beau, family or friends. This was the first time the long time friend could recall Alex going out to a night club on his own.

The ex-spy smiled as he could see he had totally shocked his long time friend. "Budge up and I'll explain the mantra driven into my thick skull by a very persuasive nurse after the incident in London." Alex sat and tried to explain that his life before had been a prison of his own making and it had been killing him. "I had a short sharp shock into actually living, not hiding in a luxurious house in Malibu. I've been a control freak over everything not really changing since I was sixteen and hiding in my closet in San Mateo. I want to know what keeps you happy, Cass. I get the feeling the band is you playing by numbers, not being Mr. Fantastically Creative. We need you firing on all cylinders, maestro. Playing safe is for those already dead inside. I'm all for living. No more sticking to my comfort zone."

"So does Karl know you're out clubbing?" Cassian waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, he wished me luck. Hard core dance is not his cup of tea." Alex felt completely at home with Cass, he was glad to reconnect after their enforced estrangement.

"I know for a fact, opera and classical is more your taste. Tell me again why the two of us ended up in a rock band and how the hell do you put up with the blinkered views of Gray." Cass took a sip of his champagne noting Alex was happy to refuse the glass offered by the waiter.

"I write classical guitar pieces. I play them to my parents and I'm too much of a coward to do anything more proactive with them. Anyway, we joined Gray's band to get rich and famous, which happened like clockwork. Nowhere near as rich as Paul but I'm not complaining. The several million I have in the bank is like pocket change to Mr. Roscoe." Alex stretched out. "So, I may even dance tonight. You'll have to video it because it may never happen again."

…

Alex stood and watched his friend work. The heavy base and clever balance of melodies and samples was worth the noise and oppressive heat of the crowded dance floor. Cass took a break and handed Alex a microphone. "Please sing Liar for me… I've got a basic backing track worked out and Kassi will sing the chorus with you. It'll be so sick. It'll go viral."

Alex could make out the sampled hook from Anja's last album and almost laughed. Rather than sing an attempt at the same melody of his rough first draft. This time he pitched his voice slightly deeper, with stronger enunciation for a stronger edge.

Following with two of Cass's songs. Alex realised he'd enjoyed this completely. No rehearsals needed, just jamming live. This was real and he loved it.

…

Alex woke late on Sunday and went for a long run along to Marina del Rey and back. After a tofu stir fry, Alex booted up his laptop to talk to Karl to find Cassian had posted videos of their session at the club. After the apprehension of the last week, he felt good about working and trying new things.


	24. Chapter 24

Being sued sucked, over the years there had been three court cases over supposed song plagiarism for the band, all thankfully finding on their favour and with only involving record company lawyers and Grayson acting as witness. Two years ago, Alex's legal representation had dealt with all the mess over the Sony Contract. This present stint in court had opened up the can of worms concerning the nightmare of the dark and deadly world of spying. The grim charade was brought to a head when he had been served court papers, as key prosecution witness in the a civil suit brought by Jack's sister.

Jack Starbright, who had died in 2002, only not in Cairo, not in that car bomb inferno. Alex had witnessed a hoax execution. Fourteen years later, the boy destroyed by her death to discover the truth. Had everyone known but him?

He had, over the years, talked and talked over the games played by Rahzim and Julius' with various shrinks in therapy sessions and with his friends and family. He had never questioned the events of that day, when he'd been forced to watch her die. It had been the sharp suited lawyer hired by James Sprintz who had uncovered the deception. His brother in law had flown over to Baltimore, to gently tell his friend the cruel reality of events in 2002, supported by Karl for emotional support. There, in black and white, was proof that Jack Starbright had trained and worked for MI6 as a official handler for their illegal teen agent, after MI6 got their claws into Ian Rider'a nephew. She had over those fifteen months received far more training than Alex, more support and been fully aware of the risks and pitfalls. She had left him to his fate in Cairo, under orders to infiltrate the Grimaldi brother's operation and had died foiling a mass kidnapping. She had been just another liar and abuser; and for years Alex had been carrying the guilt of her death. With the rug pulled from under him, Alex had to assess what difference did it make? A considerable amount considering the shark lawyer was arguing that the late Jack Starbright had been culpable for the severe psychological damage to a child in her care, while being fully aware of the risks involved as a trained adult operative. James had let slip the info had come from Joe Canterbury, who had hacked the info on Jack on the order of Paul Roscoe in 2010. James had found out while building a counter case for the civil law suit. Did Cassian also know? Joe Byrne had never said anything, but then again he probably assumed Alex knew.

Alex had signed himself into a clinic for psychiatric residential treatment as soon as the case was dismissed; only to walk out ten days later: still unwilling to confront the lies as everything he had thought Jack had been was another fabrication of his own construction. Alex Rider was off to lick his emotional wounds in private. He had to sort out who were his friends as most could probably be shifted into the lying scum pile.

...

The small villa in secluded grounds was a mile down a dirt track near a secluded cove only die hard surfers knew about. Most tourists were uninterested in this locality due to the lack of amenities, as the nearest store, hotel, restaurant or bar were over half an hours drive away, plus the fact the rutted track was only accessible to off road vehicles. The taxi dropped off its occupant on the highway, Karl Sigurdsson hoped his hunch was correct as his husband had not been answering messages from family or friends for nearly two weeks since his abrupt departure from the clinic in Tucson and last email from a cafe in Phoenix.

There, camoflagued under the scrim, was an ancient 4x4 that had seen better days with Arizona plates. The tall Dane did not enter the house but left his bag on the porch to walk to the beach. There was one surfer visible from the cliff path: tall slim and blond dressed in a black wetsuit.

Alex picked up his board and waded in as soon as he noticed the spectator.

He called out in Danish, sounding every bit as tired as he felt "Hey Siggurdson, aren't you booked for a gig in LA tomorrow?"

"I swapped dates with another agency guy. Your parents and sister sent me to check up on you, considering that your last email had them worried." Keeping his distance, Karl pulled out his phone to snap a picture and send off a group email on this lost boy. "Fuck it, Lexie; you are meant to keep me and your parents in the loop, not just say I've gone surfing speak to you guys in a month or two." Karl did not tell his errant lover that the band fan base had started a rumour on social media that AJ was dead. The proof of life confirmation had only been sent to family only. He would talk things out to find out why Alex had decided to escape here, to one of his very hidden bolt holes.

Alex shrugged at the rebuke at his actions and looked back at the perfect Pacific surf on this May morning before sharing his new life goals. "So, my updated game plan is no therapy. No hospitals. I need space to reorganise who I am. Can you deal with me? I need to move on. No more AJ, no more hiding. My places, my bolt holes here, in London and in Denmark. No more LA. I'm thinking of trying something new. Emailed Gray as well and told him I'm not up for any albums or touring until I sort myself out." The blond pulled the salty wet hair out of his eyes and smiled at his best guy. "How about I follow you around for a bit, if you like?"

Karl smiled as he could see his husband was waiting for a life line. "Is that scrap heap of a car any good? I need to be in San Francisco the day after tomorrow. I flew here from Austin. It's a full day on the road tomorrow. Got much stuff to pack?"

The blond thirty year old musician smiled, knowing he'd sleep better tonight, as Karl, his gentle care bear would chase his doubts and demons away. "Most of my shit can stay here. I even have a steak in the freezer waiting for you. "

The Dane watched Alex shower, drinking a beer. The surfer had pulled off the wetsuit outside. One small comfort was that his love had no new self inflicted injuries or scars, nor had lost ant appreciable amount of weight. The kitchen here was fairly well stocked with tinned and preserved food. The trash filled with cans. Two weeks living off soup and beans, the surfer needed fresh fruit and salads. Karl was prepared to juggle looking after his fragile lover and working. He would never break his trust; when he could see Alex was strong and resolute in finding his own path and managing his own health and well being without the restrictions of labels and boxes.

…

Fourteen days since Alex had walked out of hospital in Arizona, but neither Karl nor the Pleasures had declared the guitarist missing. Either they knew where he was or were searching themselves. James had not returned any of his messages. Paul had talked with Cassian, who had stated Alex had left the band for the foreseeable future as he needed space. The billionaire hated not being in control, he hated being cut out of the loop. Edward Pleasure had been pleasant when they spoke last week stating Alex was happily married Karl and the Dane was the one to contact concerning any personal queries. Roscoe had met the Viking stud once and had been green with jealousy as Al had been so relaxed, happy and zen with the guy.

The latest news from the Private Investigator was that Siggurdson had travelled from Austin to Mexico for a family emergency. Were the internet reports correct? Had Alex killed himself? There were no reports of suicides or accidents in the police records. Nor any admissions to psychiatric units south of the border. He knew his ex-lover adored Mexico. Maybe Alex was holed up in some shack and Karl had gone to join him. That was the most likely scenario. Paul closed down his rather creepy stalking files and went back to work. The billionaire rationalised that Alex was just a friend and he had a mountain of work to concentrate on rather than try to find a guy who had been trained from birth to disguise himself and change to adapt fully to his surroundings. Not a personality disorder as such, just a chameleon.

….

The hotel was very sub standard, typically average 3 star bland, located near Palo Alto Airport. The room was clean enough, but it was far from the luxury the guitarist was used to on the road. This was a sound engineers accommodations, arranged by the agency, a place Alex was not going to spend the afternoon and evening lounging on the small bed watching shit TV, as there was no pool nor a gym. A short hop north had the former San Mateo dropout in his old hunting ground, known more from his time in the band than school. Guitar shop, whole food shop, designer clothes shops were still the same, as were a few bars and places to eat.

Alex was refreshed after sleeping better over the past two nights than he had for several weeks. The couple had talked over all the details of their last separation before he and Karl had then shared the mammoth drive north. Alex was strangely calm and his husband did not question his decision to ditch his medication or any suggestion of therapy. Alex had reached an life changing moment, deciding he was completely over his teenager misadventures. Was it the calm before the storm? Maybe, but the ex spy was contemplating a future solo, with no crutches or any pandering to his piss poor attempts at appearing normal or keeping to any former game plan.

Karl had left an hour ago, for a breakfast meeting with his fellow agency sound engineer, who had covered the last concert. The Dane had only taken this North American tour job to be close to his husband during the court case and its aftermath. As such things normally took weeks if not months to resolve. The revelations about Jack being a spy herself had seen the case dismissed before they even got on front of a judge.

After his epiphany, Alex had thought everything about the last fifteen years through while surfing; rather than hiding in a clinic. Thankfully, his soulmate was cool with him having a bit of space. Trusting a man with fifteen years in and out of clinics and weekly therapy, to be a expert on when he'd had enough of talking. He'd been suckered into talking to shrinks in the first place because of mess Cairo had done, as well as all the other shit he'd lived through. Now, he had to turn over a new leaf to start living again, not second guessing very thought, action or decision. There was no chance in hell of working as a spy again and nothing to fear on that front. Now, he just had to figure out if he still wanted to be a musician. His guitar and everything that had grown into had been part of his therapy. Was it any more than that crutch? After weeks without practice or writing, Alex was either suffering from writer's block or he just needed time to readjust. Both scenarios were fine. Either he remained a musician or he didn't. He was still in decision mode,

The here and now, there were four more venues across Canada as part of Karl's contract and then they could both go home to Copenhagen. Alex could not wait to be back in Europe to see friends and family again.

After a mammoth shower, the blond realised he needed to do a clothes wash as he sorted through his overnight bag. Alex would use the Coin Laundromat near the Smoking Gun Bar rather than bother with shopping or using the hotel service. An arduous chore that could be accompanied by coffee and breakfast at Sabina and Holly's favourite hang out. The room phone went as he pulled on his jacket to inform him a courier was downstairs in reception with his stuff that he'd left at the clinic. Yesterday, he'd rung them up to arrange this drop off. A suitcase containing more dirty clothes, his laptop, phone and another case containing his much loved and well travelled acoustic guitar. He put the instrument case and computer in the closet, then pushed all his and Karl's dirty clothes into a hold all and went off to reacquaint himself with San Mateo, only a short drive away.

With two machines loaded, Alex slipped down the street to get a newspaper and brunch. He picked up a copy of the Times as the Guardian was not available. He was sat minding his own business as the only customer doing their smalls on a cloudy Friday late morning. Alex recognised the next customer who entered as Carmen Laquito, the retired school administrator from San Mateo; the woman who had booked the Forgotten Heroes for the Prom in 2005. The woman chuckled as she recognised the famous guitarist in this least expected hangout and asked "Good to see you, Mr. Pleasure. You may be a high school drop out, but don't you have people to do your laundry?"

Alex smiled warmly as he continued to fold clothes for the drier. "Hey Mrs. Laquito, retirement suits you. You know me, I do my own laundry as I'm too paranoid to let anyone else handle my unmentionables."

"Staying locally or just visiting?" The grey haired woman asked as she loaded her own laundry.

"Karl, my husband, is working in Palo Alto tonight. Off north to Vancouver tomorrow. Strange turn around with him touring and me just filling in time. I'm just enjoying being back here, even if its not home anymore." Alex shrugged thinking about his bout of nostalgia, just that San Mateo was more homelike now, than it had been when he lived here. Between fifteen and twenty-four he'd only liked here because of the Pleasures, mostly.

The woman pondered this, the supposedly troubled young man was happily married and living a normal life, choosing not to be a celebrity super rich recluse. Proved that the current gossip was hogwash.

With the last item backed back in the bag, Alex would drop the bag back at the hotel then attempt to sell his car this afternoon. "Its been good to catch up, but I need to get this stuff packed. I think I might wander down to chat with Mac at the bar later."

…

Mac Denham was an ex-cop, who had owned the Smoking Gun Bar for nearly seventeen years. As a rock fan, he was proud to be associated with the local Rock success story. This fact made his bar a key stop off for fans and tourists, who came in here to see the memorabilia including a signed guitar, photo montage displaying the fact the band had played here several times and shot two videos here. The mix in this afternoon were four regulars, six tourists and three fans. The regulars were included three cops in for a drink on their tab after another long shift. The place would fill later on, drawn in by the variety of decent beer, bands still played here live on Saturday night. The skinny kid with long dark hair was grumbling, the bar man listened in as he watched the sports headlines on the TV. "Its not like any of the band live here anymore. All in LA, in huge houses with top notch security. Except, AJ. He sold his place in Malibu. His parents live in Sydney. I still think he's dead, disappeared like that guy from the Manics. Never see any of them here. We'd have definitely seen Cass if we'd gone to the Throne Room in Westwood. Ike plays golf in Calabasas and Gray hangs out with that actress in Bel Air."

A guy came in from the street, walking straight to the bar and putting 100 dollars in ten dollar bills on the bar "Hey Mac, lost that bet we had spectacularly?"

It took a moment to see the guy with the ten buck haircut was the guitarist from the Forgotten Heroes. "Fall off the wagon, Alex?"

In his bad moments, Alex had drunk himself stupid until the point the barman had put him in a taxi home. "A pint before my dinner at Martinelli's would go down a treat. You know bet was about using again. Speed, charlie and chasing the dragon. I checked myself in and out of rehab. What a fucking waste of time. Like I was there for therapy. The bastards put me on methadone to wean me off the bad stuff. I did cold turkey again in Mexico. Better to feel absolutely shit then you won't be monumentally stupid and start using. I'm clean, but not sober. Gray's threats mean the band and I are history." Alex put a twenty dollar bill on the bar. "My limit is three drinks, no liquor just beer. Now, pour me a Guinness."


End file.
